


Not Looking

by paper_back_writer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Accidental Bonding, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of mpreg, Dom/sub Undertones, Family Issues, Getting to Know Each Other, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Noah Stilinski is not related to Stiles, Off screen death of an unseen character, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Physical Abuse - Isaac, Werewolf Mates, infertility issues, see notes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_back_writer/pseuds/paper_back_writer
Summary: "Derek and Stiles wake up mated. And all they know about each other are their first names."The Sterek version of my Not Looking J2 series...for reasons.Much angsting and melodrama. And sex...so much sex...idek.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Not Looking J2 'verse was languishing unfinished for three years before I decided to Sterek it up and see if I could get it done.  
> I did. And this is the result.  
> The story is no different from the J2 version, but I've edited it a bit.  
> Also, coz this started with a whole different bunch of source characters, I've had to cobble together some relationships...so Talia is married to Gerard who is Derek's natural father...that kinda thing
> 
> NB - the mildly dubious consent refers to the fact that I acknowledge Stiles isn't fully informed when he asks Derek to bite him the first time.
> 
>  _This work is intended for the private enjoyment of the reader. I do not give permission to this work being read aloud and/or shared with the press, or anyone working on said production of Teen Wolf, including but not limited to cast, crew, writers, or producers. I also do not give permission share this work on third-party websites such as Goodreads, which I believe is a resource intended for published works outside of fandom. I only own what I own and don't claim to own anything that belongs to Teen Wolf or the copyright holders of anything mentioned in this original story._ – Partly pilfered from BleepoBleep

The last thing Derek wanted to do was party. It had been a long fucking day. He was too tired and twitchy to socialize and even though the hotel room smelt foul, all he could think about was falling into bed and sleeping until the motel staff forcibly removed him. But Jackson couldn’t be swayed so Derek resigned himself to try to enjoy one drink. 

Although, he thought ‘endure’ might have been a better way of putting it as they pushed past the group of beefy guys hanging around in the doorway of the "Hot Spot". He'd taken them for bouncers from the other end of the street, but close up they seemed to be simply hanging out there, drinking beer and pretty much ignoring everyone who was having to squeeze past their gigantic, sweaty frames; the neon lights staining them alternately blue and pink.

The club was small, not much more than a bar where the music was too loud and the lights too dim. There was a small raised area where people were dancing. People with too much booze in them and too few clothes on them.

Derek rolled his eyes at the desperation of it all. This was everything he didn't need right now.

It was bad enough having to drive back from the business trip with Jackson (normally he could deal with the guy but after two days in Dallas, Derek was ready to rip his throat out), but then breaking down in some shithole of a town in the ass end of Texas—it was just too much.

The whole situation was compounded by Jackson's inexplicable enthusiasm for the place. His eyes had lit up when they checked into the motel, flirted in his own inimitable way with the waitress in the diner and practically dragged him out of his room so they could  _ "show these hicks how to really party" _ . Maybe it was a human thing. Not that he’d ever say that to Jackson’s face.

  


Derek wasn't exactly your standard Alpha by any means. He liked his job as a baseball scout; it was competitive but he enjoyed being part of a team too. He worked out seriously but also liked to read and play chess. He wasn't afraid to let his wolf out and fight if he needed to but he always found his words, however scant, were enough to diffuse most situations. All of which made it a little easier to hide the fact he was a werewolf. Which in turn made everything else easier. Civil rights look good on paper and make for a nice headline but practically—living with it on a day-to-day basis—it was better to keep his head down. So, having Jackson around definitely helped with that. Most people would bet that, of the two of them, the hard-nosed, scarily smooth, cut-you-soon-as-look-at-you businessman that was Jackson, was a werewolf before anyone would look at Derek. Until Jackson lapsed into behaving like a naughty toddler. And luckily, Jackson was A-Okay with that.

Derek hadn't exactly come out to Jackson. They had been assigned to work together when Derek had first landed the job, and during the long hours and even longer miles they spent together, Jackson had somehow worked it out. Thankfully, he wasn't an asshole about it like he was about most other things. For years now, there had been legislation and equal rights in place, and the day they burnt down the last segregation compound, every werewolf on the planet celebrated and wished they were there to piss on the rubble when the flames died down. But still there were plenty of people and places that held tightly to their traditions of intolerance and bigotry so werewolves tended to keep their natures on the down low.

  


Although, that night there was some question as to whether Derek was going to be able to manage that. He was already tired and pissed off. So cramming him into a small dark room full of noise and amped up, hormone-soaked bodies—it wasn't exactly conducive to keeping his head down.

Jackson pushed through the crowds of people, letting his crotch make unnecessary contact with every girl he pushed by—and a couple of the guys too Derek noted with a little surprise. Jackson had clearly already had one too many drinks back in his room. Derek figured by the end of the night they would either be in the emergency room or in a chapel. Again.

When they managed to find a seat, tucked away near the door to the back of the bar, Derek slumped down in relief, his back to the rest of the room. Jackson lounged on his side of the booth, eagerly running his eyes over the assortment of tasty morsels dancing to the pounding beat, like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet. When his gaze fell on the double D cups serving behind the bar, he leapt to his feet. "The usual?"

Derek looked up at him in despair, pleading for him to sit down. "They have a table service."

Jackson smirked. "Yeah, well maybe that's not the kind of servicing I'm after." He leered even though it made Derek roll his eyes and was off.

Derek grumbled to himself and dug his phone out of his suit pants pocket. He scrolled through his emails, hoping he'd find something to distract him until Jackson got back but there was nothing new. He figured he may as well double check the route for the trip home the following day but he didn’t get the chance. One minute he was fine, the next he thought he felt kind of dizzy. And then he smelt it. He must have been aware on some level to get so light headed but when he actually caught the scent, his stomach flipped over and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was so strong. An Omega. 

Whirling around in his seat, Derek tried to pinpoint the source, his eyes scanning the crowd, assessing each person—each body—until he saw him.

The guy—Christ—the kid—obviously worked there. Dressed in light, black pants and tight black tee-shirt with a logo on the back, he looked like all the other staff, except he was on the dance floor, giving his all, throwing himself around the place and laughing with abandon. Derek watched him tilt his head back, the lights catching on his pale throat and the spattering of moles over his skin, and all Derek could think about was sinking his teeth into that neck and shoving his knot in that ass. And it would be good, he could tell from the scent the kid was giving off there was no doubt it would be really,  _ really _ good. 

It took everything Derek had to drag his eyes away, grinding the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and tried to get ahold of himself. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t the type of Alpha to think about knotting strangers like some kind of animal enslaved to his hormones. But even as he was thinking it, berating himself, he turned back, unable to look away.

The kid suddenly stopped, his attention drawn by the bartender calling out to him. Derek watched him dance through the crowd to lean on the bar and have a brief conversation. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying but it appeared to be a good-natured ‘ _ Stop messing around with your friends and get back to work _ ’ thing rather than a dressing down. The kid smiled, flipped the finger to the guys calling him back to the dance floor and picked up a tray laden with bottles.

Derek started to lever himself up to follow, just as Jackson appeared at his side.

"So, she only told me to fuck off twice so I think she likes me—Jesus Christ, Derek." Jackson slammed the bottles onto the table and sat quickly, yanking Derek back into the darkness of the booth by his jacket. Derek growled at the rough handling and Jackson instinctively let go and put up his hands, saying, "Sorry man, but for fuck's sake, you better put that away!"

Derek glared at him, the words not making sense until Jackson took a finger and gestured at his own eyes and mouth. The wolf was out.

Derek had always been fairly embarrassed by his lack of transformation. His eyes would change, not just color but form, which made it a hell of a lot easier to see into the distance or in the dark. His teeth too, would elongate but never go full canine. Other senses like hearing and smell were sometimes heightened but that was about it. Some werewolves, like his Dad, could go the whole way, shifting fully into their wolf form, or at least the werewolf version of a wolf. It was one of the reasons Derek left home at fifteen. Two Alphas living in the same house was bad enough but given his father's complete lack of understanding — _ Stop fooling about and just shift, Derek! Why aren't you trying? You’re letting us all down _ —and the fact that some of Derek's wolf traits strangely never left him, like the obscene amount of body hair and his above average strength and stamina—well, it made for some interesting family dinners. His mother didn't want him to go but after the second time he and his father almost killed each other, even she acknowledged it was for the best; slipping two thousand dollars and a contract cell phone into the drawer next to his hospital bed before she said goodbye.

Derek screwed up his eyes and bunched his fists, forcing the wolf back inside him. When he opened them, the relief on Jackson's face was somehow shaming and he felt himself bristle. Jackson clearly saw it and leaned forward, conspiratorially. "I'm sorry. You know I don't give a shit about that stuff, but the way the talk was going at the bar—this is really not the place. I don't care how strong you are, we are really outnumbered."

Derek smiled. "We?"

Jackson grinned and shoved a bottle towards him. "Yes, we. Just—shut up and drink your beer."

Jackson did his best to draw Derek into a conversation, mostly about work, as they drank. Derek tried his best to keep his attention on what Jackson was saying or the bottle in his hand, but the scent of the Omega ebbing and flowing as he moved about the room was damn distracting.

Finally, Jackson leaned in a whispered, "What the hell is up with you? I've never seen you this—" he waved his hand in a vague motion, "Stupefied."

Derek's brain wanted to blow it off, say  _ I'm fine _ and just let it go but he could sense the Omega getting closer and he felt like he could hardly breathe. When he felt the hairs on his arm prickle, he instinctively reached out his hand.

He grasped hold of the kid's forearm without even really looking for it. And when he did look up, running his gazes up the taut stomach, broad chest and shoulders into the most enormous brown eyes and wet pink lips slightly parted in surprise, he was dumbstruck for a moment. Before it had only been the smell of him. Up close, he was beautiful.

The kid stared, didn't try to pull away, just stared into Derek's eyes as the smile fell away from his eyes and mouth, and started looking like he might pass out. Derek decided against his first instinct—to smash the Omega’s face down onto the table, bare his ass and claim him then and there—and instead held up his bottle without looking away, and asked as gently as he could, "Can we get two more of these?"

The kid looked at him like he'd said something totally unexpected, but gave a brief nod. After a couple of beats, Jackson piped up. "Derek, if you want the beer, you're going to have to let him go."

Derek looked down at where he was grabbing the kid. His fingertips were still biting into his skin. It was mildly horrifying that there was something about the way the Omega's flesh gave way to him like that made him want to squeeze even tighter. He let go, leaving a red handprint on the kid's slender forearm. The kid didn't move, just kept staring until Derek nodded in the direction of the bar, then ran off like he couldn't get away fast enough, barging past the other patrons and almost dropping his tray.

Jackson’s eyebrows were almost in his hairline. "What the actual fuck was that about?" Derek didn't say a thing, but suddenly Jackson leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh my god, is he—?" Derek still didn't speak but Jackson slumped back in the booth, clutching his empty bottle with both hands. "Wow. Of all the gin joints, in all the world huh. Ah, crap, we're never gonna get our beer now, are we?"

Derek smiled, a warm flush of satisfaction blooming over him as he watched the kid stumbling back towards them over Jackson's shoulder. The look of surprise on Jackson's face when the beer appeared in front of him was worth the inevitable bitching that would come later. When the kid bent down to place Derek's bottle on the table, Derek couldn’t help pressing forward just a little, and  breathed deep. The Omega's scent was intoxicating. It made his wolf surge. Normally, he was the model of control but he was having a hard time tamping it down.

The kid's neck flushed pink but he turned to Derek and whispered, "Can—can I?" Derek nodded. His brought his cheek to Derek's neck, so close that Derek felt the hairs bristle along his jawline, and took several deep inhalations. Derek wanted to touch him so badly, and by the way the kid's heartbeat was pounding, the feeling was mutual.

"I'm Derek." He'd intended it to sound casual but he was surprised at the desperation in his voice. The kid pulled away a little and looked into Derek's eyes. He looked pale and a little freaked out but he smiled and said, "Hi. I'm Stiles, and I'll be your waiter this evening."  Derek couldn't help but huff out a laugh and the way Stiles’ eyes lit up at the sound, his lips curling into a smile— it made the chant in his brain of  _ matematemate _ even stronger.

Jackson's head popped into view. "And I'm Jackson, as if anyone even cares. So are you two gonna get a room or are you gonna throw down and do it right here, as I can pass a hat around for tips if you are."

Stiles tore his eyes away from Derek's and stood up, blushing. "Sorry, sorry. It's just I've never—"

Derek looked at him questioningly, but Stiles never got the chance to finish the sentence. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder and a stocky guy with not enough hair and too much time in the gym, was spinning Stiles around. 

"Seriously! You fucking cocktease me for months but you're gonna give it up to some douchebag in a suit who won't even remember your name in the morning! What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?"

It seemed to take a moment for Stiles to switch his head on to what was happening but he shook off the brain fog and shrugged out of the guy's grip. "Well, how about the fact I fucking told you not to call me that, Wendall!"

Derek could feel his wolf bristling and tried his best to keep it under control. He would have managed it too if Stiles hadn't added, "And why in the hell you'd ever think I'd ever be interested in your limp dick, I have no idea."

Wendall raised his arm to back-hand Stiles across the face and Derek's wolf was out, up over Stiles and had Wendall pinned to the ground, teeth snapping in his face, and hands around his throat so quick even Derek wasn't sure what had happened. He had a vague sense of the crowd scattering and Jackson screaming at him but it wasn't until he heard Stiles’ low growl that he could tear his eyes away from Wendall's terrified, purple face.

Stiles was on his hands and knees, face up close to Derek's, defiance and warning in his glowing gold eyes, baring his teeth and making it perfectly clear that Derek should back the fuck off. 

Derek would never take that from another wolf. If it were another Alpha, they'd have a full on blood bath on their hands. But for the first time in his life, his wolf stopped, backed off and Derek pushed it back down, astounded at how little effort it took.

He took his hands off Wendall's neck and got to his feet. Wendall was shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks and from the smell of him, needed a clean set of underwear. Derek's voice was calm and crystal clear in the silent room. "You touch him, you even fucking look at him again, and it'll be the last thing you do. Understand?"

Wendall nodded and made some kind of indistinguishable sound but Derek had already lost interest. He looked up, looking for Stiles but he just made out his shape pushing its way through the crowd to the back of the bar. He started to follow but a furious Jackson grabbed his arm, hissing, "We're leaving." A quick glance at his face and the open mouths of the crowd and Derek knew he had no choice but to go.

The walk back to the motel was less than comfortable. Jackson was all for running but Derek managed to convince him that they weren't being followed. Derek tried to apologize but all he got were sharp stares and at one point a literal 'talk to the hand', until Jackson shut the door to his motel room in Derek's face.

Derek paced around his own room, tried to sit, tried to lie down, cursed his stupidity, cursed his biology, decided to drink the minibar but after one shot found himself grabbing his jacket from where he'd thrown it and slamming the door behind him.

The club looked deserted from the outside, the neon gone dark just leaving ugly colored glass tubes on view. Derek lingered across the street, not quite sure what his next move should be. Then the door opened and Jackson's favorite bartender walked out, pulling the door closed behind her and employing a huge bunch of keys to secure lock after lock. When she saw him coming, she shook her head and sped up the process. "Nope. Nu-uh. Not talking to you."

Derek put on his best begging face. "Look, I'm sorry, okay. I'm really sorry about what happened. That guy was being an asshole and I know I went a bit over the top—"

"Over the top? Jesus, we all thought you were going to rip his throat out!" She turned and stepped towards him, hands going to rest on her hips. "The only reason Wendall didn't call the cops is that he already has two assault charges against him and he won't be able to wriggle out of another if he had to explain why you jumped him. You're damn lucky."

Derek nodded. "I know, I know. It's just Stiles—"

The bartender turned and started to walk away. "Ha! He's sure as hell not going to thank you for it."

Derek didn't really want to grab her arm, he had to stop her leaving. She spun around and wrenched herself out of his grip. She looked pissed but said, "Nobody knew! No one had any idea he was a—and then you come along and he outs himself like that. In front of everyone? This is a small town. People won't tolerate—" She looked like she was trying to pick the word carefully. "Differences."

Derek nodded and suddenly had a very bad feeling. "What happened?"

She shifted on her feet, looking weary. "He got fired. But then the way some of the guys were talking—I dunno. I think he might have to leave town."

Derek felt his wolf bristle. "Wendall and his friends."

The bartender looked at him incredulously. "No.  _ Stiles _ ' friends. The guys he was dancing with. People he's known his whole life." She seemed surprised that Derek looked so shocked. "Like I said, this is a small town. People don't like different, but they hate being lied to and made to look foolish even more."

It took a little persuasion and a lot of pleading but she caved and scribbled an address on a scrap of paper that she found in her purse. After getting turned around a couple of times, even with the help of his smart phone, Derek finally found himself at the small apartment complex. Standing in the courtyard, the question of which level Stiles’ apartment was on became moot when a breeze carried the scent of blood straight to Derek's nose. The hint of Omega under it had Derek running.

Derek found Stiles slumped at the bottom of a flight of steps. His face was a mess, bruised and bloody, his jacket and pants ripped in places, but Stiles’ scraped up knuckles gave Derek hope that he had given as good as he got. He was unconscious, so Derek lifted him as carefully as he could, slinging one of Stiles’ arms over his shoulder and snaking an arm around Stiles’ waist to support him. He had him pretty much upright when he felt Stiles’ body tense. His eyes fluttered open, panicked at first but when he saw Derek was the one holding him, Stiles simply groaned and leaned into him. "Great. Just when I thought today couldn't get any better."

Derek smirked and got him moving up the stairs. Even in the shittiest situation possible, the kid had a smart mouth. He liked that. "Yeah, well. What can I say? You lucked out when you met me, kid."

Stiles huffed out a laugh and winced, still leaning heavily on Derek as they reached the landing. "Yup that's me. Lucky." They shuffled down the corridor until they reached Stiles' door. Stiles tried to reach into his pocket to fish out his keys but was having so much trouble Derek knocked his hand away and slid his fingers into Stiles' pocket himself. Under different circumstances it would have been a good excuse to see just how lucky Stiles was feeling but Derek just hooked the keys and opened the door, ignoring the smirk on Stiles’ bloodied lips.

The apartment was dark but there was just enough light for Derek to see the couch. He tried to lower Stiles carefully on to it but ended up half falling onto him. Stiles groaned beneath him. "God, don't you think I've had enough of a beating for one night?"

Derek pushed himself up. "Sorry. Lightswitch?"

"By the door. To the left."

Derek found it and was surprised to see that Stiles' apartment was neat and somewhat minimal, much like his own. "Gonna need something to clean you up."

Stiles jerked his head towards a door and winced.

Derek found some towels in the bathroom. It wasn't the first time he'd had to play doctor but as he rang out the towel he'd been running under the faucet, he realized his hands were shaking.

Stiles was trying with little success to take off his jacket when Derek went back into the lounge, but he brushed off Derek's attempt to help him. But when his arms were finally free of it, he allowed Derek to kneel on the floor between his legs and wipe his face with the wet towel. Derek winced at the gash above Stiles’ eye. Stiles smirked. "Are all Alphas so queasy over a little blood?"

Derek smiled. "Why? You never met an Alpha before?"

Stiles winced and pulled his head back slightly. "Never met a werewolf before."

Derek sat back on his heels. "What do you mean you never met a werewolf before? How is that possible?"

Stiles pursed his lips tight and tried to angrily wrestle the towel from Derek's hands. When Derek wouldn't let him take it, he sat back in defeat, too weak to put up a fight. "I'm adopted. No record of my birth parents. There were hints, I guess, but mom and dad had no idea until I went into heat the first time."

Derek shook his head. "Jesus. How old were you?"

Stiles looked away, his eyes wet but his face stoic. "Fourteen. They tried to get past it but they couldn't deal. They let me stay in the house long enough to get my GED but then I was on my own. They told everyone it was because I was gay and an abomination in the eyes of the Lord." He looked back at Derek and smiled. "I think it was their way of saying they still loved me. That or they were too mortified to say the word ‘werewolf’" He looked down and pressed gingerly at his swollen knuckles.

Derek fought back the rage that was building in him and stomped into the small kitchen to rifle through the freezer. His wolf was going insane below his barely smooth surface, fueled by rage at the way Stiles had been treated and the overwhelming Omega scent pushing every instinctual button he had. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been around other Omegas before but something about this kid’s scent was driving his wolf insane.

Stiles hadn't moved when he got back. Derek wrapped a dishcloth tight around the frozen peas and placed them gently over Stiles’ bruised hands. "You never told anyone?"

Stiles shook his head. "I grew up here. Grew up listening to what people said about wolves. And then to find out I was one—"

Derek dragged his hand down his face, struggling to keep himself under control. "And there are no other wolves in town?"

Stiles smiled at him, sweet and slightly confused. "No, I told you—" His words trailed off and, almost in a daze, lifted his hand to Derek's face. "Your eyes. It's so amazing when they do that—"

Derek leaned into the touch of the icy fingers. "Do what?"

Stiles moved closer. "When they change, it's so beautiful.” He huffed out a laugh. “Is it always like this?" Derek shook his head, not understanding what Stiles was asking. Stiles closed his eyes and putting his face close to Derek's neck, inhaled deeply. Sighing, he pulled back, his lips so close to Derek's, he could feel the words on them when Stiles whispered, "I mean, is it always like this when two werewolves meet? Jesus, Derek, the way you smell, the way you make me feel—Christ, all I can think about it getting your knot inside me and never letting it go."

Derek wasn't sure he could take any more but his wolf took the responsibility from him. It surged up out of him, with a strong and clear intent and Derek just had to go with it. 

Derek grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck with one hand and shoved him face down onto the couch, while the other tore at Stiles' jeans, wrestling them down to his knees, not caring whether he was hurting the already injured man. Stiles shouted in surprise, growled and snapped but when Derek plunged two fingers into his slick hole, he moaned and presented his ass like a good little Omega that had been doing it for years, pushing back and fucking himself on Derek's fingers. It took Derek longer that he wanted to get his fly undone as he didn't want to relinquish hold of Stiles' neck and was mesmerized by the sight of Stiles getting himself off with the other, but finally his cock sprang free and he scrambled to get behind the writhing, growling Omega.

Stiles was so wet, Derek slid in to the hilt in one motion and they groaned in unison. It took embarrassingly few thrusts before Derek could feel his knot start to swell. It started to catch on Stiles' rim, making him yelp every time and in a breathy, broken voice plead, "Oh god, yes, come on! I want your knot so badly. You gonna knot me, Alpha? Please god, let me feel it."

Hearing the desperation in Stiles' voice made Derek fuck him all the harder and he relished the drag of his knot until it got too much. He pushed his face into Stiles' neck and whispered, "You really want this?" 

Stiles nodded his head frantically and moaned. “Yes! Your knot, your teeth. Jesus Christ, I want you to bite me so badly.”

Derek’s wolf howled and he thought he might come there and then. “You want my bite, Omega? You want me to mate you?”

Stiles didn’t speak—or couldn’t—but he pushed back hard on Derek’s cock and bared his throat as he keened.

Derek groaned as he slammed forward hard, ramming his knot into Stiles, and the breath out of him. Stiles found his voice again though when Derek sank his teeth into the back of his neck. Stiles screamed and writhed on Derek's cock as it pulsed inside him, coming and coming until he seemed to collapse with exhaustion, going still, and breathing deep and heavy.

Derek pulled his teeth out of Stiles and let go of the back of his head. Somehow, he managed to maneuver them both around so they were lying awkwardly together, two men curled together on the tiny couch; Stiles still impaled on Derek's pulsing cock and wrapped in Derek's arms. Derek buried his face in the back of Stiles’ neck and held tight, his wolf receding, contentedly murmuring  _ mateminemate _ as it dissipated.

After a few minutes, Stiles huffed out a laugh. "You do realize you're saying that out loud, right?" He must have felt Derek's quizzical glare on the back of his head. "'Mine, mate, mine, mate?"

Stiles snickered and Derek canted his hips up in revenge. Stiles gasped and writhed as he pushed back. Derek smiled at the sound and held him tighter. They were quiet for moment before he could say, with a hint of embarrassment, "I can say whatever I like." He hesitated, unsure of how Stiles was going to react. "I just found my mate. I'm allowed to celebrate."

Stiles went worryingly still. Derek was trying to come up with something to say that didn't make him sound like a jerk, when Stiles whispered, "I kinda thought you were joking about that. Is that—is that real? I mean—are we really…?"

Derek shook his head and kissed the bite mark on the nape of Stiles’ neck. "Yeah. Mated. Mine."

Stiles brought both his hands up to his face. After a couple of deep breaths, Derek felt Stiles start to shake. He held him tight and stayed quiet, letting Stiles silently cry himself out and biting back the urge to say he was sorry. After a few sobs, Stiles coughed and pawed at his eyes. He said, almost sounding strong, "So, I guess this means now I belong to you?"

Derek pulled back as far as his knot would let him and awkwardly turned Stiles to face him. Cupping his chin with one hand, Derek bent down and placed a chaste kiss on Stiles' lips. Then another and another. Stiles’ mouth opened and hungrily searched for Derek's. They kissed long and deep, tongues and teeth exploring each other. Derek ran his hands over Stiles’ chest and throat, and then moving down, found Stiles was hard again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked, listening to the way Stiles’ breathing changed, how his ass clamped down around his dick and kept moving and teasing until Stiles came with a shout, spraying his chest again and making Derek growl at the way he tightened around his knot. He held Stiles tight and stroked him through the aftershocks, whispering, "Together. Now, we belong together."


	2. Chapter 2

Derek woke in stages. Flashes of consciousness; fragments slowly forming a whole. The sun was coming up. He was horizontal. He ached all over. There was an arm draped over him and a body pressed tight to his chest. And it was shivering.

He squeezed his eyes closed, pulled the body closer to him and sighed. Or tried to. He took a long deep breath in through his nose and was suddenly wide awake. Because, oh my God–that scent. The Omega scent from the night before was gone and now all he could smell was _mate._ And if he thought Omega scent smelt good, this damn near short circuited his brain _._ Derek's eyes flew open and met Stiles'. Seeing the whiskey brown, if only for a fraction of a second before Stiles looked away, made Derek's stomach flip with excitement. He was about to say something profound and important, his first words to his mate–the wolf he was joined to until death, when Stiles shivered again. So the words Derek would end up telling his grandchildren about weren't so much poetry, as a blurted, "Christ, Stiles, you're freezing!"

Stiles pressed his face against Derek's chest and mumbled into it, "'S'cold."

Derek rubbed his hands briskly on Stiles’ icy arms and naked back. "Why didn't you get up?" Stiles snuggled closer still shivering, but didn't answer, just smushed his mouth hard against Derek's sternum, making it impossible to talk. Derek released his grip a little and tugged gently on Stiles' hair. "Stiles?"

Stiles sighed and looked up at Derek. "You growled, okay?" He sounded tired and exasperated and Derek couldn't help but huff out a little laugh. Stiles shoved at him, but he smiled when he said, "It's not fucking funny! I'm freezing my ass off, and every time I moved you growled and fucking grabbed me and you’re stronger than you look!"

Derek laughed again. "Shit, I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me?" Stiles looked blankly at him, but Derek was distracted by the pink line above his eye where the nasty gash had been the night before. "Looks like you're good as new already."

Stiles smiled. "Yeah—almost." He turned his head, exposing the back of his neck and the bite mark Derek had made. Still there, just starting to scab. Derek ran his finger around the edge of it in fascination, hardly able to believe that he had done that. That he was mated. He brought his hand up to cup Stiles’ face, letting his thumb run over Stiles' lower lip, pulling it back slightly, exposing the moist red inside the soft pink.

But then Stiles was pulling up and away. "I'm gonna take a shower, try to warm up a bit."

Derek sat up slowly, swinging his feet down to meet the floor, feeling slightly confused at the sight of Stiles’ back. He nodded and said, "Okay," though it can out a little sadder than he’d thought it would. Really, he shouldn’t have been a little surprised that the kid wanted to get away from him. They were strangers after all.

Stiles stopped half way across the room, scraped his hand through his messy hair. Then he turned, biting his lip and looking nervous as all hell. "You wanna join me?"

Derek let out the breath he’d been holding and shrugged like it didn’t matter either way. "Sure." Because yes. Always yes.

The shower wasn't really built for two. It wasn't really built for one, but neither of them questioned whether they would fit or not. They stood in silence in the postage stamp of a bathroom, shyly taking off the few items of clothing they had on. Stiles kept his eyes on the floor and only joined Derek under the spray when Derek reached for his hand and pulled him in.

Derek decided that Stiles should be wet as often as possible once they got back home. He soaped Stiles' shoulders, letting his hands run down over the moles that covered him to the light hairs on his lower back that led down to his ass and through the thick dark curls around his cock. He was slightly embarrassed when Stiles ran his hands up his naked back and found his fingers running through the hair that covered most of him. Stiles' eyes were wide as he said, "Turn around. I wanna see." Derek did, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks and radiate down over his chest. Stiles spread shampoo over his back, making shapes with the suds in his hair. Derek smiled and relaxed into it, letting his Omega explore. And when Stiles’ hands slid around his waist and down to his crotch that was just fine too.

It didn't take long to go from washing and discovering each other, to Stiles' hard dick riding the crack of Derek's ass as he jerked Derek's cock fiercely with one hand and the other squeezed the base, the knot swelling against the pressure. Derek braced himself against the cold tiles with both forearms and shouted as he came, reaching one hand back to sink his fingers into the flesh of Stiles’ ass. Stiles practically screamed as he bucked up, coming hard and collapsing, with his cheek against Derek's back.

Derek stayed were he was, panting, feeling Stiles' mouth moving against his shoulder. He straightened, intending to turn and feel those lips on his, to kiss Stiles until the water ran cold. But as his weight shifted, Stiles was gone again, muttering something about _take your time_ and _coffee_. Derek found himself alone in the shower, listening to the spray hitting the empty space beside him. He ran his palm flat against the tiles, wiping off the come and watching it swirl down the drain along with what the spray washed from his back, and tried to figure out what in the hell he'd done wrong. Or whether anything he had done was actually right.

When he walked back into the main room, he could see Stiles in the small kitchen pouring coffee into two mugs. In sweat pants that had seen better days and white tee-shirt that showed off his arms but hung loose around his body, even dressed down like that, Derek still wanted to eat him alive. Strange foreign thoughts ran through his head; wanting to keep Stiles hidden away. _Mine_ . Wanting to fill his belly with pups, watch him grow and once he’d pushed them out, to hold him down, teeth in his neck, knot in his ass and do the whole thing over again. _Mate. Mine_.

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face and took a breath. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t going mad. He was mated. And it was going to be an adjustment.

Of course, he'd thought about being mated. There was a point when it was all he’d thought about. His senior year of high school, it was all anyone—any werewolves—talked about. Finding the one. _The_ one. Of course, it was a fiction. They knew that. Research had proven that a werewolf could mate with anyone and that although there was a stronger attraction to wolves whose DNA was optimally compatible, there was never just one.

Except, today it sure fucking felt like there was no one else in the world but Stiles.

Stiles picked up the mugs and turned, gasping when he saw Derek just standing there. Derek figured that it was because he was just staring like a creeper but when Stiles' eyes ran over his bare chest and arms, down to the crumpled black suit pants, his cheeks flushed pink in the process and Derek couldn’t help feeling relieved and a little pleased. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump."

Stiles looked at the floor and shook his head slightly as he walked to the small dining table in the corner. Derek grabbed his shirt from the back of the couch. He was aware of Stiles' eyes surreptitiously on him, watching him pull it on and button it as he followed Stiles to the table and took the seat opposite him.

Stiles didn't look at him or make a move to speak, so Derek waited for a few excruciating moments before saying quietly, "You keep running from me." Stiles covered his mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tight. Derek's wolf started to stir. He took a deep breath and laid both palms flat against the table top. He started with a strong, "Stiles," but instantly softened when he saw the kid flinch at the sound of his name, "Look. I know this has gotta be totally overwhelming for you, I'm a little freaked out myself. But you _have_ to talk to me. It's the only way we're gonna get through this." Derek shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He pushed away his wolf-thoughts of _just fucking drag him out of here_ and tried to concentrate on doing what he did best, negotiating. "Can we talk about last night?"

Stiles’ eyes flew open and Derek actually found himself recoiling from the look in them. "Jesus, Stiles. Are you—are you afraid of me?" 

Stiles sat back shaking his head too vigorously to be convincing. "No! No it's not that," but Derek's wolf appeared in his eyes and Stiles' skin blanched.

Derek closed his eyes and tried his best to be calm and reasoned. "For god’s sake, Stiles! You are the very _last_ person in the world that needs to be afraid of me. I think you've heard too much of that fucking human propaganda. You've no idea how this thing works. Christ, I'm not even sure and as for last night—" He was on a roll but that didn't stop him from hearing Stiles clear his throat. Derek looked at him expectantly.

"Last night," Stiles looked away, embarrassed, as if he couldn't get the words out with Derek in his line of sight. "Last night was my first time."

Derek nodded, "I know. And I know it’s totally different than sleeping with a human—"

"No. I meant—that was my first time."

Derek's eyes went wide. "With anyone? You've never—?" Stiles shook his head and Derek asked, "Not even—?" before he realized he wasn't sure what to ask or even if he wanted to know.

Stiles hung his head and took a deep breath. "How could I? I couldn't risk anyone getting anywhere near enough to feel—to find out. Been jerked off a few times, but just stuck to giving blow jobs—" Derek felt his heart break a little at the thought of Stiles being with anyone else and Stiles clarified, "It seemed the safest thing to do."

Derek sat back in the chair, his mind running over the way things played out the previous night, the way he’d pinned Stiles down, ripping his clothes off, knotting him and making him scream. A wave of shame hit him and he let his head drop down into his hands. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I should have never—"

Stiles looked confused and then horrified. "Oh God, no! No, I didn't mean—I wanted you, Derek. Wanted this, whatever the hell this is. Wanted your—everything." Derek looked up at that. Stiles smiled. "Still want it. It's scaring me how much I want it. I’ve got all these thoughts in my head, going ‘round and ‘round. How I just want to stay under you, tied to you, ride your knot until I'm fat with babies.” He huffed out a laugh. “That’s crazy, right? But it's so strong and I can't shake it. It doesn't feel like me, y' know? _That_ scares me. That scares the shit out of me. Not _you_."

Derek wasn't sure exactly at what point he left his seat and ended up on the floor between Stiles legs, his hands on Stiles' face, kissing him like he was starving for it. Stiles kissed him back; biting, sucking, hands clawing at his back, trying to draw him closer until there were actual claws. When Stiles punctured his skin, Derek hissed and pulled away sharply, toppling onto his ass. Then Stiles was on him, pushing him down onto his back, scrabbling desperately at the fly of Derek's pants, pleading, "Please. I want it. I need you in me, please."

"Jesus, Stiles! Careful!" Derek grabbed Stiles by the wrists, not wanting the thick, dark claws anywhere near his crotch. Stiles growled and Derek really saw his wolf eyes for the first time. The honey dark brown was gone. Now, they were burning gold, sloping inward as his brow furrowed. Derek breathed in sharply, and all he thought was _beautiful_ before his wolf surged up claiming Stiles’ mouth in a frenzy of kissing and biting. Hands scrabbled between pulling heads towards each other and desperately trying to get their pants off.

It felt like a blessed relief when Stiles sank down onto Derek's cock, the slick from his hole smeared on his inner thighs, making them glisten as he rode his mate. Derek was no virgin. The couple of times he had fucked humans had been disastrous. He'd fucked omegas, betas and even an Alpha in college who swung that way, just to try it. But nothing had compared to this. The way he seemed to fit perfectly inside Stiles, just tight enough to drag deliciously over his length, perfectly hitting Stiles’ sweet spot making him greedily fuck down harder and harder with every stroke. The noises coming from deep inside Stiles’ chest reverberating through his body–Derek could feel the growl in his fucking _balls_. It was just perfect.

As Derek's knot started to fill out, Stiles threw his head back and groaned loudly. Derek tried to steady him, grabbing him by the hips, knowing that he could really hurt himself if he kept fucking once his knot got too big but Stiles was strong. The muscles in his thighs were taut, working hard as he forced his body up and down against Derek's hold, grunting loudly as his rim caught and pulled on the base of Derek's cock. 

It was beginning to hurt Derek so he couldn't imagine what it felt like for Stiles but it didn't seem to slow him down either. "Jesus Christ, Stiles, stop!"

Stiles looked down at him, mouth open, panting hard over long white teeth, pupils blown wide and growled out, "Just fucking do it." and Derek knew that it was Stiles’ wolf speaking directly to his. He felt his body rise up, his hand grab the hair on Stiles’ head, wrenching it to one side, sinking his teeth into Stiles’ shoulder, flipping them over so he was on top of Stiles and ramming his over-inflated knot into Stiles’ ass. Stiles screamed and kept screaming as Derek's knot filled, stretching him out even more, making him come hard, spraying the space between them and making his ass clamp down on Derek's cock. Derek roared into Stiles’ neck as he came, not relinquishing the hold with his teeth until Stiles’ legs crossed over his ass and gently pulled him close. And then they lay there, Stiles licking his own blood from Derek's mouths, and they kissed slow and languid, relishing the feeling of Derek pulsing inside Stiles.  

 

"How long does it usually take?"

Derek lifted his head from the floor next to Stiles’. "What?"

Stiles bit his lip, embarrassed and a little shy. "This. The tying thing."

Derek shrugged. "It's different every time. I think last night it was about half an hour but I was pretty out of it." Stiles nodded thoughtfully and Derek smirked. "Why? You got someplace you need to be?" It was supposed to be a joke but as soon as he said it, Derek realized he'd messed up.

Stiles looked up at the ceiling and smiled sadly. "No. Not anymore." 

Derek kissed his throat. "You still got some of that wild Omega strength left in you, kid?"

Stiles smiled. "Sure. Why? You ready to go again?"

Derek laughed and drew Stiles’ arms up around his back. "Not just yet. Mostly, I just don't want to rip my dick off when I try this. Hold tight, okay?"

Stiles clung hard with his legs and arms around Derek's torso, and squeaked in delight when Derek lifted himself up onto all fours. He walked on his hands and knees, with Stiles snickering and clinging tightly beneath him, across the room to the coffee table. When they were next to it, Derek gingerly sat back, holding Stiles on his knot. The kid held on tight the whole time, his eyes not leaving Derek's face.

As Derek settled, awkwardly leaning back against the couch, Stiles whispered, "You are so fucking beautiful. Even when you're not a wolf." Derek smiled and hoped Stiles couldn't feel his heart swell. He reached over the table and managed to get hold of his cell with his fingertips and dragged it towards him. Stiles smirked. "You calling out for breakfast? 'cause I'm not sure we've got enough cash to cover the tip if we answer the door like this."

Derek huffed out a laugh, hit return call and put the phone to his ear. "Just need to check up on something."

Derek was expecting Jackson to be pissed so when he picked up, the worry in his voice was a surprise.

_"Oh thank God! Where the fuck have you been? I thought something happened to you!"_

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I've been a bit—tied up." Derek smirked at Stiles’ eye roll. "Any news about the car?"

_"That's it? No fucking explanation at all?"_

"Later, Jackson. The car?"

_"Well, fuck you too. The mechanic said I can pick her up at one."_

Derek craned his head around to check the time on the kitchen clock. "Fine. Okay, we'll meet you at the motel at one-thirty, then."

_"Okay, I'll meet you outside—wait. We? Fuck me. You're with that fucking kid, aren't you?"_

"See you at one-thirty, Jackson."

_"You are, aren't you? Holy shit, are you seriously taking him back with us?"_

Derek pressed end call. Stiles was looking serious. Derek cocked his head. "What?"

"I was just thinking. I don't even know your name."

Derek smiled and kissed him. "Derek Hale."

Stiles grimaced. "Hale, huh? I guess it could be worse." Derek laughed and opened the web browser on his phone. Stiles tried to peek over the top. "Who are you calling now?"

Derek didn't look up. "Well, once your ass has had enough of my dick, you need to pack a bag. But I wanna make sure we can get the rest of your stuff home as soon as possible. So, I'm looking for a moving company that can do the job quickly."

"So you just expect me to drop my whole life and walk away with you? Just like that?"

Derek looked up half expecting a fight. "Yup. Just like that."

Stiles' face was defiant but he canted his hips and squeezed hard around Derek's knot, making him gasp, before he pressed his lips to the shell of Derek’s ear and whispered, "Of course. Alpha."

Derek groaned. Wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist, he buried his face against Stiles' neck. "Oh God. Gonna fucking kill me, kid." Stiles cackled with genuine laughter and Derek pushed him away so he could look at him in the eye. "Exactly how old are you?"

Stiles smirked. "Twenty-one." Derek groaned dramatically suddenly feeling damn old. "Last week." Derek groaned louder for effect and smiled against Stiles' lips. "And for the record." Stiles’ face darkened, looking deadly serious. "My ass is never gonna get tired of your dick."

Which was how Jackson came to be standing outside the motel for forty-five minutes before he realized what Derek meant by 'tied up'.


	3. Chapter 3

Jackson stared at Stiles, seemingly unrepentant that it was making Stiles’ neck blotch pink with embarrassment. To give Stiles his due, he simply stood with arms folded across his chest, squinting in the bright sunlight and keeping his eyes on Derek, who was violently trying to fit Stiles’ luggage into the trunk of the car. Eventually, Stiles sighed and looked over at Jackson. "What? You never seen a guy that takes it up the ass before?"

If Stiles was looking to shame him, it backfired. Without skipping a beat or looking away, Jackson said, "Not one that does it for—" He glanced at his watch. "An hour and a half. No. I have not."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You’re not including the other three times Derek fucked me? Have you considered you’re just not all that in the sack?”

Derek slammed the trunk shut and sighed, satisfied that he had tessellated the hell out of those bags and finally won, but dreading the journey ahead if this was how it was starting out.

"Just ignore Jackson," he said quietly as he walked around to the passenger door and opened it. Derek looked at Stiles and nodded towards the seat. Stiles looked surprised, but scooted forward. Derek reached out for Stiles' arm when he was close enough; he squeezed his shoulder and let his hand run down Stiles’ tricep to his elbow. "I'm serious. He's an asshole, yes, but he’s messing with you. There are two Omegas that work in our office, and his sister even dated one for a while so he doesn’t care about that."

Stiles nodded sheepishly but flinched when Jackson’s head appeared over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, well, you never fucked any of them. And let's face it, Derek, an hour and a half is pretty much the longest relationship you've ever had."

Derek narrowed his eyes and glared. "Get in the fucking car, Jackson."

Jackson huffed and dropped down into the back seat. Stiles was smirking so hard, he looked like he might pull a muscle but he sat all the same when Derek redirected the glare at him. Derek slammed the passenger door and rubbed his fingers across his brow.  _ This is going to be the longest drive of my life. _

In the end, it wasn't too bad. Once Jackson had stopped trying to ask awkward, graphic questions that Derek forbade Stiles to answer; and once Derek realized that Stiles’ constant fiddling with the electric windows  _ and _ the radio  _ and _ the air-con was solely to get a rise out of him—and get him to stop scowling—Derek was able to relax a little and concentrate on driving.

After a while, Jackson pulled out his tablet and he and Derek started discussing contract options for one of the new players who was wavering, then went over the emails that had arrived that night which needed addressing. They had always worked like this, one driving while the other typed responses they hashed out together. Jackson called it 'road admin'. Derek just thought of it as the best way of spending less time in the office when they got back.

"Y'know, I can drive the last stretch if you want?"

Derek shook his head and changed lanes. "Nah, I'm good. Besides," He looked over at Stiles dozing in the seat beside him, plugged into his iPod. His head lolled back against the headrest, hair clinging to the fabric, his features softened with sleep, neck stretched out and vulnerable, blood pulsing the soft freckled skin below his ear.  _ Jesus. _ "I really think I need to keep my hands busy right now."

Jackson chuckled to himself and Derek shot him a look in the rear-view mirror. "What?"

"I—I don't know. This.  _ You _ . You of all people! Just picking some poor kid off the street and making him your bitch. I didn't think you were like that."

Derek bristled but kept his eyes on the road. "Jesus, Jackson, that's not quite what happened!"  _ Not quite.  _ "It's not just some hook up. It's—more—it's just—we have—"

Jackson's eyebrow hit his hairline. "Well, shit, Derek. It must be something if you can’t even finish a sentence."

Derek shook his head. "It is. It is something. Look, your biological imperative is to fuck as many women as possible. Mine is to find one person and stick with them 'til we die. So—so this is it for us. We're mated. Whether we like it or not."

Jackson inched forward in his seat until Derek could smell the banana smoothie on his breath, when he whispered, "Oh my God, you're not joking. Seriously? You're fucking werewolf married?"

Derek huffed out a laugh. "Except there's no getting a divorce. We're physically bound together and there's only one way to break that." He flicked the indicator on and changed lanes towards the off ramp. "So, please don't rile the kid about it. I know it's a big joke to you, but I think he's really freaked out."

Jackson slumped back. "Oh, believe me, I'm not laughing. I guess—well, congrats on your—Christ. I really hope this works out, Derek."

Derek nodded as he steered them home. "Thanks. Don't really have much choice about it now."

  
  


Derek shook Stiles gently by the shoulder but he still started awake, flinging his arms out and jolting upright. "Shit! What?"

Derek smiled. "Whoa! Easy. We're home. Come on. Get out." Stiles nodded and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay just—gimme a second."

Jackson was already pulling bags out of the trunk and dumping them on the sidewalk outside Derek's apartment building. Derek grabbed the last trash bag full of clothes and threw it over.

Jackson caught it and dropped it next to the rest of the stuff. "Is that it?"

Derek nodded and slammed the trunk shut. "Thanks for—well. Thanks."

Jackson grinned and held out his hand. "You're welcome. Don't say I never get you anything."

Derek gave him the car keys and smirked. "Oh, it's gonna be like that is it."

Jackson shrugged. "Well, if I had listened to your prissy whining about being tired and not wanting to party with the yokels, then you wouldn't be coming home with that, now would you?"

Derek followed his eyes to the open passenger door. Stiles was unfolding himself from the seat, standing up and stretching his arms above his head, the bottom of his tee-shirt rising up to expose a strip of flesh and the band of his boxers peeking out from under the waistband of his jeans. He yawned; his hair mussed, sleepy-eyed, and Derek's wolf sat back on its haunches, ready to throw its head back and fucking howl, 'cause, goddamn, how did he get so lucky?

Jackson smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. "Like I said, you're welcome." As he moved around to the driver's side, he saluted Stiles with two fingers. "Good luck, kid. I'll see you soon, I guess."

Stiles smiled or at least tried to. It didn’t quite take. "I guess so. Thanks for the ride."

Jackson drove off leaving them with a suitcase, an overnight case, two sports bags and three trashbags at their feet.

Between the two of them, they awkwardly carried the luggage into the foyer and dumped it in the elevator. Derek got in beside Stiles and pressed the button for his floor.

"This is a nice place," Stiles offered, "Been here long?" It felt horribly stifled. Formal. It reinforced just how much they were strangers riding the elevator, trying to make small talk to stave off the strangeness of their proximity to one another.

Derek nodded. "About four years.” He thanked the Lord that the doors opened before he had to try to think of something else to say.

He carried most of the luggage but ended up kicking one of the trash bags down the hall in front of him. "Careful! You do that too hard and my underwear is gonna end up everywhere!"

Derek smiled. "Relax. This is us."

Derek opened the door and reminded himself to get a set of keys cut for Stiles. They stacked the bags in the wide entranceway under the coatrail and both letting out tired and relieved sighs at the same time. It made Derek smile just a little, and jerked his head. "Come on. Let me give you the five cent tour."

There wasn't much to show. The hall opened out into one large room, white and brushed steel kitchen with pale oak work surfaces devoid of any clutter at one end; huge window that looked out over a small park and other apartment buildings at the other. There was a huge flat screen TV, with a couple of game consoles and a bookcase holding DVDs and games opposite a huge dark brown leather sofa, two matching chairs, and coffee table. A narrow hallway ran off the main room with what should have been a guest bedroom but it was decked out as Derek's office; desk, computer, filing cabinet, messy wall planner on the wall, and an unused pull-out couch for unexpected visitors. There was a big-ish bathroom, with a jacuzzi bath that looked spacious enough to fit them both. And then there was the master bedroom. The bed was big and comfortable, and was dressed in plain grey sheets and a dark grey comforter. Half the room was taken up with Derek's fitness equipment, running machine, weights, cross trainer, all facing a small TV mounted on the wall. The closet ran along the length of one of the walls and ended at the door to the wet room, which was tiled in dark grey slate with a huge shower head hanging from the ceiling.

Stiles was pretty much silent the whole time, simply nodding in response to every reveal. When Derek had pointed out everything he could think of, he sighed and put his hands on his hips. "So. What do you think?" He felt slightly breathless.

Stiles nodded slowly, turned and drifted back down the hall to the kitchen. Derek's head tilted to one side and, not knowing what else to do, he followed. Stiles went to the fridge, opened it and frowned, then proceeded to do the same with all the cupboards until he spotted Derek watching him.

Stiles leaned one hip against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. "Who's your decorator? The local prison warden?" Derek slumped back against the wall and huffed out a laugh. Stiles smirked. "I like it. It's—it's fucking amazing actually. I'm just kinda surprised that you don't have more stuff."

Derek nodded. "Yeah well. I'm not here much. I work a lot." He walked forward slowly. "Speaking of. I hate to do this. I really don't wanna leave you—but—"

Stiles looked up as Derek took hold of his shoulders. "You're going to  _ work _ ?"

Derek's hands ran up to cup Stiles' neck of their own accord. "I'm sorry. I'll only be an hour—"

"You're kidding! We just got here."

"Two hours. Max. I have to talk to my boss."

Stiles shook his head. "Okay, but I'm hungry and the cupboard is bare." Derek smirked and kissed him. He intended for it to be quick and chaste but as soon as their lips touched it became wet and dirty, tongues and biting, and Derek getting hard so fast, he felt his head swim.

He had enough presence of mind left to stop and hold Stiles away from him, but Derek still struggled to keep focused on what he needed to do. He felt his fingers biting into Stiles' flesh as he leaned his weight forward into Derek's hands, panting heavily and just waiting for Derek's elbows to give so he could close the gap between them.  Derek sucked in a breath, "Fuck. Okay, listen. I have to do this. I have to go. But I will be back."

Stiles swallowed and coughed out, "I'm hungry," in a low growl as he eased back from Derek's hands and stood.

Derek nodded and ran his eyes over Stiles’ body. "Oh, I know."

"Well, yeah, that. But, I mean I'm actually  _ hungry _ hungry." Stiles was smiling in amusement and Derek was of half a mind to forget checking in with Noah altogether. Fucking Stiles where he fell seemed like the optimal plan in that moment.

Somehow, he managed to shake it off and pulled out his wallet. He flicked through it, and handed Stiles his Visa. "Take out menus are by the phone in my office, although there is cereal in the kitchen."

Stiles took the card and turned it over in his hands. "Yeah, I'm not eating that. It looks older than me." He looked up at Derek. "Y'know they changed the packaging about six months ago?"

Derek shook his head and walked off to retrieve his jacket. "Whatever, Princess. You want me to show you how to work the TV?" Derek was already pulling on his jacket but he could stay for a few more minutes.

Stiles shook his head. "Believe it or not, I have worked a TV before, asshole."

Derek grinned. "My, my. You are touchy when you're hungry, huh?" All he got in return was a muttered  _ something like that. _ Derek walked to the door, with every instinct in his body screaming at him to stay. He paused when he touched the handle. "I'll be as quick as I can."

Stiles smiled softly at Derek's look of concern, and said gently, "It's fine. Really. I'll be fine."

Closing the door on his Omega, less than 30 minutes after getting him home, didn't feel fine to Derek at all.  
  


 

The door to Noah's office was open as always, but Derek knocked anyway. Noah was multi-tasking; he had a pencil in his mouth, fingers on the keyboard, one eye on the computer screen and one on the shaky video playing on the TV in the corner of the room. And he was on the phone. Still, he waved Derek in, so Derek closed the door behind him and flopped himself down on the small couch, concentrating on the game playing on the screen to steady himself.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, he'd known Noah a long time. It had been Noah who scouted him in high school back in New York, had brought him to California in the first place. He had been there for him as he adjusted to his new life away from home, and stuck with him after the accident when Derek couldn't play anymore. The guy was old school but didn't bat an eyelid when Derek told him he was a werewolf. He was a good man, like a father to Derek. Maybe that was why this was gonna be so hard. Noah was the only person in Derek's life that he felt he really owed anything to, whose opinion mattered more than his own.

Noah mumbled a few more words into the phone and hung up, scribbled a note or two on a Post It and then sat back in his chair, letting it bounce slightly with his weight. "So, what's up, son?"

Derek swallowed. "Apart from getting motion sickness from this VT? Who the hell shot this anyways?"

Noah snickered. "Greenberg."

Derek nodded and relaxed back on the cushions. "Figures."

"What do you think?"

"Of the pitcher? Not much. I can see why he singled him out but the way he turns like that—he's too slow. The catcher on the other hand—"

Noah nodded. "Yup, just what I was thinking. Maybe, I should send you down next week—" Derek opened his mouth to interrupt but couldn't get the words out. Noah sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk. "Or not. Come on. Spit it out."

Derek took a deep breath. "I need two weeks off."

Noah shook his head, "Nope. No way. Two days maybe—"

"Noah—"

"Jesus, Derek. I know the draft is pretty much over but—"

"Noah, I met someone—and I—we—"

Noah's eyes went wide. "Holy shit, Son, did you—?" He made a vague gesture with his hands that made Derek want to laugh out loud. "I mean are you—?"

"Mated. Yes." Saying it aloud like that felt strangely good and Derek couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face.

He grinned even wider when Noah asked, "So who's the lucky girl? Anyone we know?"

"Um, no.  _ His _ name is Stiles and that's pretty much all I know about him right now." He ignored the confusion and realization flashing on and off in Noah's face, and went on, "Which is why I need the two weeks. Apart from all the legal stuff, we need to spend some time together. I'm sorry, Noah. I know the timing sucks."

Noah got up and walked around the desk, scratching at the stubble on his jawline. "It sure does. Which is why I can't give you the time off—" He held his hands up, when Derek started to protest, hushing him. "Things won't slow up for three weeks, I can't give you the time. But—I can let you work from home 'til then, review the tapes, write up reports. As long as you get it done, I don't see why not."

Derek sighed. "Thanks, Noah. I'm sorry about this."

Noah waved the apology away with his hand like it was a bad smell. "I'm just happy you found someone. I did wonder how long you were going to hold onto the whole lone wolf thing." Noah snickered at Derek's embarrassment. "You should bring him by for dinner. Melissa is gonna bug the hell out of me about it once I tell her anyway."

Derek nodded and got up. "I will. Absolutely. Thanks."

He started for the door, but Noah called him back. "Two things though, son." Derek stopped with his hand on the half open door. "Call your mother." Derek slowly pushed the door closed again. He looked at the floor as Noah went on. "I know you wouldn't think to do it, so I'm reminding you. She'd want to know."

Derek nodded, slow and resigned to it. He looked up and asked, "And the other?"

Noah sighed and sat back in his chair. "I hate to say it 'cause I know you love this job and you're damn good at it but—you need to consider if it's the right thing for you now. Think about the hours and being away on the road, and how that's going to affect you both. This is a hard job to have when you have a family."

Derek felt shocked and a little guilty that he hadn't thought of it before. "You think I should quit?"

Noah shook his head. "I think you should talk it over with your—just think about it, okay?"

Twenty minutes later, stood in the bakery section of the supermarket trying to guess what kind of pastries Stiles might like, it was all he could think about.

  
  


Derek had to steady the grocery bag with his chin as he opened the door. He could hear gunfire even before he got the door opened and made a mental note to speak to Stiles about volume control and the fact that Mrs Johnson in the apartment above them was a bitch about that kind of thing.

Stiles sat crossed-legged on the sofa, Call of Duty on the screen, his hair damp, wearing sweatpants and what looked like one of Derek's tee-shirts. There were a couple of take-out boxes on the low table in front of him. Derek slid the case of beer and the grocery bag onto the kitchen counter. He took the stack of mail from the top of the bag, intending to flick through it but instead dropped it and walked across the room.

Stiles didn't look away from his epic battle, just called out, "I was right. Your game selection sucks! Good thing I brought mine. On the upside, that shower is fucking amazing! Ten out of ten. Will shower again. I could have stayed in there all night. I didn't unpack anything 'cause—well, I figured you'd wanna decide where my stuff goes, it’s your place after all. And I got Thai, by the way. I got some extra pad thai 'cause I didn't know if you were gonna eat. I can heat it up for you if—" He stopped when he realized Derek was stood at the end of the couch, motionless, glowering at him. Stiles hit pause and Roach Sanderson's snowmobile froze in mid-air.

It was suddenly very quiet. Stiles placed the controller gently on the coffee table, and slowly stood up. Taking a step back, he asked quietly, "Is everything okay?"

Derek let out a long breath, and whispered, "Take off your clothes ."

Stiles looked confused and shook his head. " I don't—"

Derek looked him straight in the eyes and said clearly, "Take. Off. Your. Clothes. "

Stiles blanched. Derek could see his hands shaking as he pulled the tee-shirt over his head and the sweatpants down to the floor. The fact that he wasn't wearing any underwear was not lost on Derek's cock, which shifted uncomfortably in his pants. Stiles was blushing, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor and having trouble trying to decide what to do with his hands. Derek could smell the fear and adrenaline coming off him.

"Get on the couch." Derek's words weren't harsh, just strong, but Stiles started breathing hard. He put one knee on the couch, his back to Derek, when Derek corrected him, "No. Lie on your back. Put your hands above your head. And keep them there."

Stiles paused but then did as he was told. Once he was lying, prone and exposed, Derek shucked the jacket from his shoulders, and said, "Ask me about my day."

Stiles’ eyes flicked up to his face for a second, apprehensive, his mouth moving as if to question it but he croaked out, "How was your day?"

Derek couldn't help but smile. He undid the top couple of buttons of his shirt and then pulled it over his head. "It was good. Long but good." The sound of Derek unbuckling his belt made Stiles look up, his breathing shifting from fast and panicked to fast and turned on when Derek's cock sprang free. Derek stepped forward. He pushed Stiles’ right foot off the couch and crawled, naked, into the space between his legs.

Stiles gasped and his whole body twitched when Derek's hands took hold of Stiles’ knees. "I asked my boss for some time off," Derek said absently, as he ran his hands up the inside of Stiles’ thighs, his fingers dimpling the flesh and scratching the skin as they moved. Stiles’ breath hitched when Derek’s hands reached his crotch and Derek slid his thumbs down towards Stiles’ ass. They teased Stiles’ cheeks apart, not touching his hole but spreading the slick that was leaking out. Derek put his head down and nuzzled against the side of Stiles’ cock, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ balls, finding the smell of him under the shower gel and leather scent of the couch.

"He said I could work from home—which is better than nothing, right?"

Stiles tried to reply,  _ Right, _ but it became a choked off sound as Derek swallowed him down and pushed two fingers into his asshole at the same time. Blow jobs were not Derek's forte, he hadn't had much practice, but he did his best to make up for it with enthusiasm. And the way Stiles’ body arched up, pushing his cock deeper into Derek's throat, he figured he wasn't doing too badly.  Derek forced his mate's hips back to the couch and held them there. All Stiles could do then was tilt his head back and try not to come as Derek sucked and licked and fingered him. Stiles keened pitifully when Derek's mouth and hands started working their way up Stiles’ body, fingers bruising the skin, lips leaving purple welts, until Derek's hands were on Stiles’ biceps.

Derek looked down at him. Stiles’ hands were still locked behind his head and he could see him quivering with the exertion of not being able to touch. Derek bent and licked a stripe from the hollow of Stiles’ throat up to his chin. Stiles whined and Derek smiled. "Jesus Christ, Omega. You are fucking beautiful. You have no idea how much I want to be inside you right now."

Stiles canted his hips up and slid his hard cock against Derek's, making them both gasp. Stiles breathed out, "Nothing stopping you, Alpha."

"Is this what you want? Am  _ I  _ what you want?" Derek whispered, resting his forehead against Stiles’.

Stiles huffed out a laugh. "Like you said, we don't really have much choice about it now."

Derek pulled back, horrified that Stiles must have overheard that conversation in the car, but Stiles was smiling. He smiled even wider at Derek's expression, shook his head and said simply, "Fuck me, Alpha."

Later, Derek questioned how much of an Alpha he really was, being that was all it took for him to obey and slide into his Omega. He braced himself on Stiles’ arms, holding him in place as he pounded hard into him, the whole time Stiles growling and crying out. He'd had plans to make Stiles beg for his knot but instead pushed deep inside him as it began to swell, making short, hard thrusts that had Stiles’ wolf breaking out. Stiles’ hole clamped tighter and tighter around his cock as Stiles shifted, eyes burning gold and teeth snapping in Derek's direction. It had Derek coming so hard he thought he might pass out, and then Stiles was coming – hot white spraying between them, and he howled and kept howling until Derek put his teeth to Stiles’ throat.

  
  


"I'm sorry about before."

Stiles was crouching over Derek, gingerly pulling away from his deflating knot. He shook his head. "What before?"

Derek sat up on his elbows and watched the place where they were joined, fascinated at the way they fit together. As Stiles tugged back, Derek said, "Before. When I—when I made you strip. I didn't mean…to…" They both groaned as Derek slid out of Stiles, Derek's softening cock flopping down onto his belly, splashing come and slick over him.

Stiles slumped back at the opposite end of the couch, panting slightly, grimacing at the way his ass was clamping shut, and shrugged. "It's okay. It’s not like I hated it. I kinda liked it actually. It was hot. I—I guess I just wasn't expecting it, y'know?"

Derek chuckled as he sat himself upright. "Me neither, if I'm honest."

They sat grinning at each other for a moment, until Stiles moved. He reached over to his pile of clothes and pulled the tee-shirt back on, his mussy hair bouncing as his head popped out and he asked, "So. What do you wanna do now?"

Derek took a long look and a longer breath. "That's a very good question."


	4. Chapter 4

The groan was loud enough Derek heard it over the whirr of the running machine and the pounding of his bare feet. Without breaking his stride, he glanced over and saw one whisky brown eye blearily regarding him from beneath a mop of dark hair. Turns out, Stiles was not a morning person.

Derek was used to his 5:30am alarm going off and being instantly wide awake; a throwback from college when he was training, working two jobs and trying to cram studying into his day. He was amused to find that if Stiles surfaced before 10am it was a miracle, but he still wasn't sure if this was his usual routine or Stiles adjusting to his new life. The two weeks they had been together hadn't exactly been typical for either of them. Even though Derek was working at home in fits and starts, they were both pretty much running on vacation time. Their days had been spent watching crap TV, eating junk food, playing PS3, planning to go out but inevitably ending up fucking. And then there were the long hours afterward, tied together. It wouldn’t be so bad but Derek didn’t seem to be able to get it up in Stiles presence without popping his knot.

Derek wasn't one for sitting around or sharing. If someone had come to Derek before he met Stiles, and predicted him what he’d been doing the last fourteen days, he would never have believed them. But he had spent the better part of his time listening to Stiles rattling on—about the winter vacation he'd spent with his cousins in Maine (when they tried to persuade him that  _ only _ the yellow snow was good to eat), or how he likes black olives but not green ones (unless they're the stuffed kind with the cheese and pepper where the pit should be), or a million other random facts about Marvel or circumcision or rice production—with Stiles spooned up against Derek's chest, playing with the webbing on Derek's hand while Derek sleepily inhaled the scent from the base of Stiles’ neck and let the words wash over him.

Or that Stiles would be in his lap, the pair of them wrapped in a blanket on the couch with Stiles brushing Derek's hair back from his face and massaging his scalp while Derek let his eyes droop closed and head fall back as he allowed the whole painful saga—of the accident and the surgeries and his dreams of a professional sports career being smashed to pieces in a matter of seconds, even though he'd kept the hope alive for months—to just come spilling out.

And if someone had told him about the deep feeling of contentment and rightness, how easy it would be to share his life story like that and how intensely he wanted to know every tiny detail of Stiles’ life, he would have laughed in their face. He wasn't the sharing and caring type and nowhere near ready to settle down. Except with Stiles, it seemed he was after all.

Stiles coughed and raised his head a fraction, just enough for Derek to catch sight of red creases etched in his face from the pillow. "What time is it?" Stiles croaked like he'd been up half the night drinking whiskey—which was only partly true. There was beer, but no whiskey.

Derek turned back to the TV screen mounted on the wall, and kept up his steady pace. "Six-thirty."

There was another, more dramatic groan, and then a muffled, "Jesus Christ, Derek. Are you gonna do this every morning?"

The runner on the screen dived for the plate, too late as it turned out, just as Derek used the remote to shut off the TV. He pressed a couple of buttons on the control panel of the running machine and it gradually came to a halt; walking out the last few yards with a towel in his hand, wiping the sweat from his face and neck.

He stepped off the running belt and wandered over to the bed. "Yes, Stiles. You gonna be a whiny bitch about it every morning?"

Stiles’ arm appeared, flapping back the sheets, revealing his scruffy bedhead, blotchy, crease-marked skin, and bits of white funk crusting the corners of his mouth and eyes. "I need my beauty sleep, y'know?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Clearly."

All Derek got was a muttered, "Fuck you," and a pillow to the face before Stiles was buried back in the covers once more.

It was hard to say whether it was because they were mated—the hormonal changes in his body creating the physical and psychological ties between them—or whether it was simply Stiles, but Derek couldn't help think of the kid as anything other than adorable. Stiles made him feel stupid, and when Stiles acted out like this, Derek's wolf just rolled on its back and showed its belly like he was a twelve year old with his first crush. It was embarrassing how much Derek liked it.

Derek clambered onto the bed, arms and legs straddling the Stiles-shaped lump beneath him. "Oh, come on…" The lump mumbled something that sounded pretty offensive but Derek just lowered his head, and said quiet and low, "Shut the fuck up and turn over, Omega."

When Stiles turned on to his back, the motion pulled the sheet away from his face. Derek smirked at the cheeky smile on Stiles' lips. He had half a mind to lean down and kiss him but he had other more pressing plans, and dragged the rest of the sheet away from Stiles’ naked body as he backed down the bed.

Derek kissed down Stiles’ chest as he went, licking at his nipples and the sensitive areas down the sides of his rib cage. He nuzzled across his soft belly, kissing each mole as he passed them, feeling the muscles twitch as he got closer to Stiles’ cock, which was lying expectantly on his thigh, quietly fattening in preparation for Derek's mouth. Derek's hands slid under Stiles’ ass and cupped his cheeks. They had been practicing this.

The urge for them to mate, even though Stiles wasn't in heat, was strong. For the first week or so practically all Derek did was knot Stiles over and over. But in terms of practicality, being tied to someone 6 hours a day was a little tricky, as well as chafing. Adding to their repertoire in bed seemed like a good way to take the edge off and still be able to go out for coffee. So they were getting to know each other this way too.

Derek discovered he loved the taste of Stiles; that the mate scent Derek found so utterly intoxicating, translated to his bodily fluids too. Luckily, Stiles seemed quite fond of Derek's mouth, especially of grabbing him by his hair and fucking it as he came, arching his back and filling Derek's humming throat.

And Stiles didn't seem to mind returning the favor either when Derek would crawl up, thighs bracketing Stiles’ head, and press his aching cock between Stiles' lips. Stiles would take hold of the base and squeeze Derek's engorging knot while Derek fucked him down into the pillow, throwing his head back and coming with a shout, oblivious to Stiles’ wet eyes and gasps for breath when he finally pulled out.

Derek did notice once he'd flopped down onto the bed beside Stiles. He glanced over and felt a sting of guilt under the satisfaction. He started to say,  _ Are you okay? _ but Stiles cut him off.

"Don't ruin it."

"Ruin, what?"

Stiles rolled over to face him, blood red lips framing his used mouth, making Derek want to do the whole thing again. "Ruin the moment. You always act like I'm some fragile flower that's gonna break down just 'cause the big bad wolf had his wicked way with me."

Derek reached over and cupped Stiles’ jaw, wiping the tear tracks with his thumb. "Do I always do that?"

"Yup." Stiles yawned, "Every time."

"You want me to stop?"

Stiles smiled and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Derek's shoulder. "I wanna sleep."

Derek sat up. "Okay, Rip Van Winkle. You definitely need more beauty sleep." Stiles growled and pressed his face back into the pillow. Derek paused for a moment, watching Stiles’ shoulders relax, then, unable to resist, buried his face in Stiles’ neck, murmuring, "Big bad wolf? Really?" Stiles growled louder and shoved a laughing Derek off the bed.

  
  


Stiles didn't show his face until after 10am. Derek was finishing up an email in his office when he saw Stiles pass by the door. Derek glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye then did a double take. He was well aware that Stiles liked to walk around the apartment stark naked but it still surprised him to see Stiles wandering about wearing nothing but a smile.

Mrs Johnson from the floor above had been pretty surprised too. By the fourth day of extremely vocal sex, she'd had enough and had come down to complain. Derek had the presence of mind to pull jeans on over his boxers before answering the door, all apologies and promises, actually wishing he'd grabbed a shirt too when her gaze flicked to his naked chest. But when he sensed Stiles walking across the room behind him, and Mrs Johnson's eyes tracked left to right, getting larger and larger behind her glasses, her skin flushing redder and redder, he almost couldn't keep his amusement under control.

 

_ "You totally did that on purpose, didn't you?" _

_ "Well, I bet she only came down to take a look—" _

_ "You traumatized that poor woman with your dick hanging out." _

_ "Yeah, but I looked good! And it should shut her up for a bit. Unless she thinks you might be pant-less next time you answer the door." _

 

Stiles was back thirty minutes later, showered and breakfasted, as Derek pressed  _ send _ on his last bit of correspondence. He leaned back in his chair, admiring his empty inbox, just as Stiles put a fresh cup of coffee in front of him and set his ass to rest against the desk. He'd changed into loose black jeans and a soft gray tee-shirt but was still bare foot. He rubbed his toes together, as he asked, "Can we please go shopping? There's nothing to eat."

"We have groceries." Derek rested one hand on Stiles’ thigh, and sipped at his mug.

"No." Stiles insisted, "We have snacks. You buy snacks. There's no actual food. We keep eating like this I'm gonna get diabetes. I need real food. Your refrigerator looks like Tyler Durden lives here."

The computer pinged with incoming mail. Derek silently cursed it. He looked up at Stiles. "Tyler Durden?"

"All condiments but nothing to eat?" Stiles looked at him wide eyed, then mumbled, "Jesus. Clearly we need to watch a movie later too." Derek's inbox pinged again. Stiles started to stand, saying, "I'm sorry, I shouldn’t bother you while you're working—" But Derek pulled him back down.

"You're right. We need—stuff. But I sure as hell hope you can cook because I cannot."

Stiles' face lit up and he playfully squeezed Derek's cheeks together. "Well, then you're in luck! Come on—let's go now before you get another thousand emails!"

Derek stared into his coffee mug and called after Stiles as he scampered away. "Can I please finish my coffee first?" But his computer pinged again and he figured he may as well put his travel mug to use. A thousand emails might not be all that much of an exaggeration.

  
  


An hour later, Derek was stood in the dairy section of the grocery store, one hand on the trolley, the other holding his cell, his thumb sending an angry text to Jackson. The first couple of days that Jackson had been texting him links to sex clubs specializing in live werewolf sex— _ U guys cud make a fortune! Seriously!— _ it was vaguely funny. Now, Derek was thinking he might have to rip Jackson's thumbs off just to get him to stop.

As he was trying to figure out if five exclamation points was enough to get across how pissed he was, or if he needed to resort to an emoticon, he heard a vaguely familiar voice call his name. Derek looked up and groaned internally. Richard from accounting was walking towards him holding a six-pack of something cheap, and two baguettes, wearing that stupid smug smile that always managed to rub Derek up the wrong way.

It wasn't that Derek wasn't out at work. He just wasn't  _ out _ out. People mostly knew he was a werewolf, but no one really mentioned it. There were a couple of co-workers who were definitely offended by Derek being different but generally as long as he wasn't shedding on the furniture during the weekly debrief then nobody cared. Except for Richard.

Richard seemed to think that Derek being a werewolf was  _ hilarious _ and felt the need to point it out as much as he possibly could. But never directly. Everything became a double entendre to him. The guy  _ winkwinknudgenudged _ so much you would have thought he was getting paid on commission for doing it. Derek wasn't sure whether the guy had a problem with him or if he was an asshole to everyone but it really didn't matter. Richard pissed him off and Derek avoided him as much as possible. So getting ambushed by Yogurts and Desserts was never going to be the highlight of his day.

"Derek! How are you, man? Heard you had to take some time off. Nothing serious, I hope. Or is it just your time of the month?" Richard grinned and Derek wanted to rip his throat out.

Instead, he smiled politely and said, "Hey Dick. Nope, just needed some personal time." He nodded at Richard's purchases. "Looks like you have a wild night planned."

Richard followed his gaze and looked at the beer fondly. "Got the afternoon off. The mother in law is coming over. I'm planning on getting pleasantly buzzed and throwing carbs in her direction to keep her occupied and away from me. So. When are you planning on coming into the office? I've got a couple of queries on your expenses I need to clarify."

Derek took a breath, hoping that when he opened his mouth a plausible explanation would find its way out, when Stiles wandered over, contemplating two vacuum packed items in his hands. "Derek? How do you feel about Brie? Is that a bit too adventurous for you? Or do you just want to get the stuff from a can—?" Stiles stopped dead when he noticed that Derek wasn't alone, and looking at Richard, said, "Hi."

Richard's smile was part-creepy, part-confused, and Derek suddenly realized that Jackson, the weirdo, had kept his mouth shut for once and obviously hadn't told the grapevine why Derek wasn't at work. He coughed. "Um, Stiles, this is Dick. We work together. Dick, this is my—"

And that was it. His brain froze. The word 'mate' was right on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn't seem to form it in his mouth. He didn't want to say it out loud, not to someone like Richard. He didn't want to expose Stiles to Richard's scrutiny either. So he just stood there, while Stiles and Richard raised their eyebrows at him in anticipation.

Eventually, Stiles snorted out a laugh and dropped both packets of cheese into the trolley. "Yeah, you're gonna have to forgive him. He's totally ashamed of me." Stiles smiled wide, and stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Stiles, Derek's husband."

For a moment, Richard just stared but when he did take Stiles’ hand, he shook it with enthusiasm. "Well. I'll be damned! We didn't even know he was seeing anyone."

Stiles smirked and pulled his hand back, surreptitiously wiping his palm on the back of his jeans. "Well, you could say it was a spur of the moment, Vegas-type thing."

Richard's eyes ran unashamedly over Stiles’ body. "Yeah. I bet." The motion of Richard’s gaze managed to trigger Derek's brain back to reality and he cleared his throat loudly. Richard managed to tear his eyes away from where they had reached Stiles’ crotch, and smiled widely at Derek. "Well, I can see now why you'd need that  _ personal time. _ " Even with his hands full, he still managed to do air quotes and Derek seriously considered the throat-ripping-out thing again. "Well, I guess I should leave you two love birds to it. Although, I guess it's more puppy love, amiright!?" Derek bristled but Richard didn't notice. "Although, you guys should really get rings if you wanna blend in. And maybe something to hide that scar on your boy's neck too, you know how people talk, Derek."

He definitely did notice when Derek stood up to his full height, body tensing with the weight of his wolf pushing at his skin, but the grip of Stiles' hand on his arm forced it back down. Stiles smiled, and said, "Well, it was nice to meet you. Dick." His tone was polite but it was a very clear shutdown. Richard was already instinctively starting to move away when Stiles added, "See you around."

Richard called out. "Nice to meet you too. See you later, Derek. Enjoy your personal time!" And disappeared towards the checkout.

Derek stared after him, feeling furious and somehow embarrassed at the same time. He looked down at his mate when Stiles nudged him with his shoulder. "Are all your friends assholes? Do you even know any normal people?" He was smiling but Derek couldn't help but notice the way his hand had come up to cover the mating bite that was only half visible under the neck of his tee-shirt.

Derek took hold of Stiles' fingers and pulled them away from the scar and up to his mouth. He softly pressed his lips to them, and said quietly, "He is not my friend. Come on. Let's get this done. I want to make a stop on the way home."

  
  


The stop was the jewelry store just around the corner from the bakery that was Derek's regular coffee dealer on his way into the office. Stiles laughed hysterically when he realized where they were going. He didn't stop until they were inside and he caught the look of guilt on Derek's face. Then Stiles was quiet, deferring to Derek, letting him make the choices; plain platinum bands with a line of white opal, no engraving. He did speak up when he saw the price tags, but Derek insisted that it wasn't a problem. He just took the rings out of their boxes; slipped his own on and then carefully worked Stiles’ onto his ring finger, simply saying, "There." Then he put his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and walked them out of the store, leaving the packaging on the counter.

  
  


Stiles had bought enough food to feed them for a month. At least that's what it felt like when Derek was carrying the bulk of it down the hall. Thankfully, Stiles had propped the apartment door open so he could walk straight through to the kitchen and dump the bags unceremoniously onto the counter.

Derek flexed his hands; they were crumpled and red from the weight of the bags. He couldn't help but look down to where the ring on his finger pinched into his skin. He turned the band slowly, the sensation alien and cloying. He didn't hear Stiles close the apartment door and almost didn't hear him walk up, until his mate was practically under his nose.

"You didn't have to do it, y'know." Stiles’ face was a little sad when Derek looked up but he smiled softly to cover it. "Just 'cause that jackass makes a crack about us blending in—"

"No. No, it wasn't about that." Derek mumbled, not attempting to draw Stiles nearer. 

Stiles stepped into his space all the same, saying softly, "Well, what was it about then?"

Derek took a deep breath, and wrapped his arms around his mate, his husband, drawing his body close and his scent into his lungs. "I didn't want you to think I was ashamed of you." His voice was resigned, half expecting Stiles to laugh, and poke fun at him.

But instead, Stiles looked horrified. "What are you—? That was a joke! I didn't mean—I didn't think—"

"I know." Derek interrupted, "I  _ do _ know. I'd been planning to get us rings after we'd registered anyway, but we haven't gotten around to that yet, and I wanted—I  _ needed _ you to know. That I'm taking this seriously. Taking  _ you _ seriously—"

Stiles did laugh then. "You're so weird. You're  _ always _ serious. I wouldn't expect you to take me any other way."

Stiles reached up and cupping Derek's jaw, drawing him down into a kiss. Derek rolled his eyes and made a show of resisting but moments later they were enveloped in each other, tongues exploring deep into each other's mouths, lips working together, skin tingling in anticipation. Until something that sounded horribly like the worse kind of 70's disco to Derek, blared out from Stiles’ back pocket.

Derek straightened abruptly, not relinquishing his hold on Stiles and asked, "What in the hell is that?"

Stiles laughed and pulled his cell out. His grin quickly fell away when he saw the caller ID on the screen. He put his hand on Derek's chest and squirmed out of his grip, walking away with no explanation. Derek stood and watched Stiles turn away from him. It was agonizing for those few moments; Stiles running his hand up into his hair, gripping it tight, his back tensing as he just stared at the phone in his hand. Then he swiped his finger across the screen and put the cell to his ear. "Mom? Is everything okay?"

Derek felt like the breath had been punched out of him. For a minute, he looked on as Stiles wandered over to the window, ducking his head and resting it on the glass, covering his eyes or running his finger over the pane, answering  _ Yes _ or  _ No _ or  _ I don't know _ over and over in nothing more than a whisper. But then Derek suddenly felt gross, as if he were intruding, so he made his way to the kitchen and started to unpack the groceries.

Derek had only managed to put a few items away when a laugh from Stiles shocked him into turning around. Stiles was grinning. He tipped the phone slightly away from his mouth and said, "They think you kidnapped me!" He could barely contain the giggles coming out of his throat. "They—oh god—they think I'm your sex slave."

And that was it. The pair of them erupted into fits of laughter. Derek was hanging onto the kitchen counter struggling to breathe, and the way Stiles was trying to apologize through his giggling just made it all the worse. It wasn’t even that funny but clearly all the tension and worry had caught up with them and it all came pouring out. 

Stiles was the first to pull himself together. "I'm sorry, no, mom—really. It's just—no, I promise. Honestly. We're mated—married." He looked up and caught Derek's eye beaming like an idiot. "We have rings and everything."

Derek took a few deep breaths, wiped his eyes and went back to filling the refrigerator, smiling wide and grateful that the tension was gone from the room. Except, after a few more clipped words from Stiles, Derek heard him say, "Is he there now? Okay—you sure he wants to talk to—? Okay then—" Stiles glanced up furtively in Derek's direction, saying, "Hey, Liam," as he disappeared down the hall to the bedroom.

 

Stiles was gone long enough that when he came back, Derek had squared away all the food, and the beer bottle in his hand was half empty.

Stiles kept his head tucked down, but glanced up, brandishing his cell before placing it on the kitchen counter. "So, my mom called."

Derek nodded and handed him the bottle that was waiting next to him. "So I gathered. Is everything okay?"

Stiles swigged his beer and nodded. "Yes. Yes I think so. They—she wanted to check that I hadn't been sold to some kind of werewolf brothel or something."

"Sounds like they may have been talking to Jackson." Stiles barked out a laugh and raised his head enough that Derek could see he had been crying. He hesitated for a moment, fearing he might be pushing too hard, but asked anyway, "Who's Liam?"

Stiles huffed out a laugh. His body language stiffened and he shifted, uncomfortable where he stood. When he ran his hand up into his hair and gripped it, Derek regretted saying anything. It was clearly too upsetting. Stiles garbled out, "It's complicated." but then he relaxed, seemingly resigned to it and said breathily, "Liam is my brother."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "You have a brother?" Stiles nodded. "And you're only just mentioning this now?"

Stiles shrugged and took another huge gulp from his bottle. "Like I said, it's complicated, and—well, being that he's coming to dinner next week, I thought now might be a good time."

Derek felt his new ring clink against the beer bottle as he fumbled it in his hand, just catching it as it slopped beer and bubbles into his jeans, and wondered absently what was more likely—that he'd somehow ended up in an episode of The Twilight Zone, or Candid Camera.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek cracked an eye open. He didn't have to move his head to see the glowing digits of the clock smeared red in the darkness. 2.24am. He closed it again and waited for the numbers burnt on his retina to fade, trying to ignore the way Stiles’ breathing betrayed the fact that he was laying beside him, wide awake. When Derek had glimpsed consciousness two hours earlier, Stiles had at least pretended to be asleep. Now, he was lying on his back, thinking so hard that Derek could almost hear his synapses firing. He sighed, resisting the drag of his mind towards sweet, dark oblivion and instead reached out a hand and fumbled on the bedside lamp.

Stiles' hands flew up to his face and hissed at the sudden brightness. "Jesus! A little warning, please!”

Derek dragged his face across his pillow as he turned. "Sorry." He scooted around, propped himself up on one elbow, blinking away his sleepy vision and hovered over his mate, waiting for him to take his hands away from his eyes. When Stiles showed no signs of moving, Derek bent and kissed him on the temple, scenting his hair, the almond shampoo overridden with damp, bitter sweat along his hairline. "You wanna tell me what's up?"

Stiles sighed and mumbled, "Take a wild guess," from behind his palms.

"Stiles." Derek meant to sound gentle and sympathetic but there was a hint of Alpha that crept in, a slight growly undertone that came from his diaphragm. It was unconscious and really unfair but Stiles reacted instinctively, pulling his hands away and curling into Derek's chest.

"I'm sorry. I just—I keep thinking about tomorrow. It's been so long. What if he hates me? What if he's just coming to spit in my face and tell me to never come back? What if—?"

Derek's arms wrapped tightly around Stiles, fingers pressing hard into his skin to still him. "Whoa, whoa! Where is this coming from?" Stiles shrugged and buried his face deeper into Derek's neck. It was one of those things that Stiles did—like sitting on the kitchen counter swinging his legs or letting out a long bored sigh whenever Derek wanted to watch a documentary instead of reruns of Punk'd—that made Derek feel like a dirty old man even though there was only a handful of years between them. Stiles was still so much a kid in some ways and it was easy to forget sometimes that he wasn't as grown-up and together as he made out. Derek kissed the side of his head and held him tight, trying to make him feel as safe as possible. "All week you've been so excited to see him. What happened?"

Stiles tilted his head back, catching Derek's lips with his own. He kissed him lazy and soft and Derek found himself becoming pliant, relaxing into Stiles’ gentle attention, running his hand absently over the downy skin on the curve of Stiles’ back, over the swell of his ass, relishing the way Stiles hummed into his mouth and started to spread his legs in invitation. Derek smiled and licked along Stiles’ jawline to his ear. He sucked gently at his pulse point before whispering, soft and low, "Not a chance, Omega. You can distract me all you want but we  _ will _ talk about this."

Stiles groaned and shoved him as best as he could, which was hardly at all given that he was engulfed in Derek's arms. Derek smirked and kissed him quick and hard before rolling out of bed. Stiles lay on his back, hands fisted in his hair for a moment before he realized Derek was pulling on his sweatpants. "Where are you going?"

Derek was surprised to see fear in his eyes. He clambered quickly onto the bed, bracketing Stiles with his body. He bent forwards nuzzling into Stiles’ neck and sucked hard on the mating scar he'd left there. Stiles drew in a deep breath and arched up into his mate, moaning in disappointment when Derek whispered, "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to talk."

Ten minutes later, Derek smirked when he heard Stiles padding down the hall towards him. He turned his back so he didn't have to listen to Stiles bitch about his 'smug face' but Stiles muttered, "Oh, shut up," anyway as he slid his butt onto one of the high stools at the breakfast counter. Derek huffed out a laugh and gave the teabag one last dunk before dropping it into the sink. He slid the mug across to Stiles, deciding that he should probably keep the counter between him and his Omega because the combination of bed-head, yesterday's Henley—complete with pasta sauce smeared down one pec—and the outline of Stiles’ dick through his boxers was already making Derek half hard.

Instead, he picked up his coffee and held it to his chest, as he leaned his hip against the surface. "So."

Stiles nodded. "So."

There was a long pause before Derek shook his head. "Look, I know you don't really want to talk about this and I meant what I said, you don't  _ have _ to tell me anything but—"

"I know, I know—" Stiles rubbed the back of his hand roughly across his eyes. "And I know it's stupid that I haven't talked about him. At all, but—"

Derek paused, waiting. He'd been waiting a week for Stiles to tell him about his brother but every time he thought Stiles was about to say something, he'd change the subject. Derek knew he could coerce Stiles tell him but he didn't want to be that guy—didn't want to be that kind of Alpha. Except now it was clearly freaking Stiles out and Derek couldn't bear the thought of letting him go on suffering in silence when the burden was something they could be sharing.

Derek took a sip of coffee, and then rested the mug on the counter in front of him. "Is he older or younger?"

Stiles sighed and shifted on the stool. "Younger. Four years younger."

Derek nodded, trying not to react too much at the fact that Stiles was finally talking. "How old was he when they adopted him?"

Stiles' eyes flicked up to him for a second, a flash of green before they were gone again. "He's—he wasn't. He's their biological son."

Derek couldn't help reacting then. He straightened, raising his eyebrows, too tired to hide the surprise in his voice. "But I thought—?"  _ they couldn't have children. _

Stiles huffed out a laugh. "Yup. So did they. Liam is their 'little miracle'." He raised his hands to mime the air quotes without looking up. "It never made a difference really. They treated us just the same. Said we were both a gift, that kinda thing. They were actually good parents, y'know?" Stiles finally made eye contact, and Derek was surprised to see the sincerity in his face. Stiles laughed at the look Derek was giving him. "They were, honestly! Well. Until the whole—" He fake-growled and clawed at the air, letting his wolf out enough that his eyes and hands shifted for a second, "—thing. Then not so much."

Derek laughed, bitter for the way they had ostracized Stiles when he needed them the most, but also with some relief that Stiles had come through it with the confidence to be able to make a joke of it, even though he could see it hurt him still.

"Did you get along?"

Stiles smiled softly and spoke quietly when he said, "Yeah. Yeah, he was my little buddy, right from the start. We never really fought. I dunno. I never really understood when my friends didn't want their brothers or sisters around. I just liked hanging out with him, even when he was a little kid. Everyone thought it was weird but it just felt right, having him close."

Derek couldn't help smiling. "It's not weird, it's a werewolf thing actually." Stiles’ eyes opened wide. Derek shrugged. "He was your pack, and younger. Your wolf would have wanted to keep him in sight. It's natural for pups to behave like that. To protect each other."

Stiles looked away and smiled. "That explains a lot." He huffed out a laugh. "Mom used to go crazy because I'd get up in the night and sneak into his crib to sleep with him. I think it used to annoy her when he got older, if he was afraid in the night, had a nightmare or whatever, he'd come to me and not her. She wouldn't yell or anything but she'd look so disappointed to find him in my bed in the morning."

"You made him feel safe. Sometimes people can sense werewolves even though they might not realize it. Chances are, he could feel how protective your wolf was over him and he would have been drawn to that." Stiles didn't respond, just kept his eyes on the night sky outside the window.

Derek watched him, resisting the urge to keep pushing, trying to leave space for him to talk. Eventually, Stiles sighed and brought his mug to his lips. When he swallowed, the sound was audible in the silence. He swiveled around in his seat and leaned forward on the counter. "I guess it doesn't matter now anyway."

Derek started to say  _ don't say that,  _ but Stiles shook his head as soon as Derek took a breath. "No, really. A lot happened. Things were said. I really have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow or, today, later—whatever."

"But you talked to him on the phone? And he wouldn't come if he didn't want to see you, right?" Derek hoped it was the right thing to say but the way Stiles seemed to tense up, made him doubt himself.

"Yeah. I guess so. It's just—" Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face. He breathed out heavily and it seemed to solidify something in him. He turned to face Derek and looked directly at him. "That first time I went into heat, my parents thought I was sick so they took me to the doctor. Of course, he knew what it was—what I was—straight off. I remember him being so matter-of-fact about it, talking about suppressants and heat cycles and stuff, like I'd come down with a cold or something. Of course, mom and dad were horrified. When we got home there was lots of shouting and crying and—they told Liam I was sick. And that he had to stay away from me so he didn't get sick."

"Jesus." Derek didn't want to interrupt Stiles’ flow but he couldn't help but breath out the word.

Stiles smiled. "Exactly. They never told me I was an abomination or anything, but I'd heard it enough at church and school. Liam was only ten. He really didn't know what was happening. He tried to talk to me about what was going on, tried to get me to explain it, but I was struggling. I couldn't be there for him like I should have. I started to think that maybe I  _ could _ infect him somehow or that I was a danger to him like my parents thought. After a while he just stopped asking. By the time I left, we barely spoke anymore. We avoided each other as much as we could around the house and at school. After I moved out, I'd catch a glimpse of him around town or whatever but we never spoke. I wanted to but I guess I figured that it was for the best." He paused and wiped at his eyes, then said quietly, "It still hurt like hell though, Derek. Still does."

Derek couldn't take it anymore. He rounded the counter quickly and gathered Stiles up into him. Stiles clung to his chest, not crying but breathing hard, using the mate scent coming off Derek to comfort and steady himself. Derek pressed his mouth to the top of Stiles’ head and held him tight.

They stayed like that for a long while, until Stiles fully relaxed, and Derek felt bad that he started to think about how his bare feet were getting cold. Stiles must have felt the way he started to fidget and was the first to pull away.

Derek tilted Stiles’ face up and pressed his lips to the corner of Stiles’ mouth. "I can't guarantee it's going to be all rainbows and flowers, Stiles. But I have a good feeling. I think it's going to be okay." Stiles smiled sadly up at him, the tiredness showing in the Omega's eyes. Derek kissed him again and then stepped back, pulling Stiles with him, saying, "And if it isn't, well then, we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it. Okay?"

Stiles slid off the stool and walked slowly as Derek led him back to the bedroom, saying simply, "Okay," as Derek flicked off the kitchen light.

Stiles stood passively as Derek stripped off Stiles' shirt and boxers before removing his own sweatpants. It only took a hand on Stiles’ chest to get him to lie back, sinking heavily into the mattress. Derek crawled up the bed, running his stubbly cheek up the inside of Stiles' pale thighs, encouraging him to open up. He nosed at Stiles’ balls, breathing in his scent, making Stiles sigh, the two of them bone-tired but needing the closeness. Derek lapped once at Stiles’ hole when he canted his hips up, making Stiles gasp, and then kept licking up his perineum, over his sac, pressing the flat of his wet tongue along the length of Stiles’ hardening cock, before taking him fully into his mouth for one slow suck.

Stiles moaned low and lazy as Derek pulled his mouth off him. The Omega lifted his knees and snaked his arms around his Alpha's neck as Derek blanketed Stiles with his body, pushing slowly into him as they wrapped themselves up in each other. There was no urgency. They kissed deep, exploring the increasingly familiar tastes and textures, rocking together quietly in a slow steady rhythm until Derek's knot began to swell. Stiles pressed his face into Derek's shoulder and grunted through the stretch as Derek mouthed at his neck until he felt Stiles was close. He bit down on Stiles’ shoulder, sighing out a groan when he felt it tip Stiles over the edge and spill between them. Stiles was instantly boneless, letting his arms drop down to the mattress, just giving out a contented hum every time Derek's knot pulsed inside him.

Derek kissed his throat, happy to hear Stiles’ breathing start to sound like he was drifting off. Holding his mate tight, Derek rolled the two of them so Stiles lay sprawled on his chest, pulled the empty pillow down under his own hips, so his knot was more comfortable for Stiles, and then flicked off the light. The last thing he saw were the digits on the clock – 3.18am in fuzzy red light—as he drifted off with the weight of his sleeping Omega comfortably on him.

  
  


Derek drove Stiles to the bus station just before 11am. Stiles stared out the window and chewed on his thumbnail the whole way there. He'd been quiet all morning, even flinching once or twice when Derek touched him, and Derek's wolf was not happy about it. Stiles’ tension was making Derek amped up. He wanted to pace, to fight something, anything, whatever the unseen threat happened to be. So Derek had distanced himself, trying to think rationally that everything was okay, and not really succeeding.

When they pulled into the drop off point, Derek turned in his seat, straining against the seatbelt, and offered again, "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I can come in with you if you want?"

Stiles smiled sheepishly, ducking his head and shaking it. "No. Thank you. I'll be okay."

Derek sighed and sat back, nodding. "Okay. But you call me. If something happens, you call me and I'll come get you. Just—" Stiles leaned over and hushed him with his lips. The kiss was quick and chaste, only making Derek's gut swirl when Stiles whispered against his mouth, "Yes, Alpha. I promise." Then Stiles was slamming the door behind him and disappearing into the crowd.

Derek watched him go, and then waited a few more seconds just to be sure Stiles didn't change his mind. Then some jerk in a station-wagon decided Derek was being too slow and honked his horn to get him to move. Derek flipped him the bird out the window and pulled out of the space, turning in the direction of the office when he reached the intersection, taking deep breaths as he flicked on the indicator.

He parked up in his usual space but didn't bother heading into the building. He walked down the block to the diner where Jackson was waiting to distract him for a few hours. They ate, and Jackson laughed at Derek checking his cell every ten minutes.

Derek scowled at him and checked it again. "Shut up. It's not funny."

"No, you're right. Not funny at all. Fucking hilarious is what it is!" Jackson's hysterical laugh making people on the other side of the diner look over. "You're so whipped. Never thought I'd see the day."

Derek shook his head and crammed his mouth with fries to stop him from saying something he'd regret. After the novelty wore off, Jackson smiled and said, "You know he'll be okay?"

Derek shook his head and picked at the label on his beer bottle. "No. No I don't know that." Jackson raised his eyebrows and somehow managed to look patronizing, despite the last bite of his burger dripping ketchup down the outside of his hand. Derek shrugged. "I know, okay. I guess—it's just we haven't been apart since we got back and it's—difficult."

"That damn biological imperative, huh?"

Derek smirked. Jackson came across like an asshole most of the time but damn, he got it and Derek could forgive all the other shit because Jackson always came through when he needed him to. "Something like that."

Jackson balled up his napkin and roughly wiped at his full mouth before dumping it on his plate. "Tell you what, why don't we hit up the batting cages? We haven't done that in a while." Jackson rolled his eyes at the way Derek just shrugged. "What's the alternative? You gonna sit at home and mope until the twink gets home?" Derek glared at him but he went on all the same. "Come on. I know you've still got that whole cripple thing going on but I reckon you might be able to hit one or two."

Derek glared even harder but the twinkle of mischief in Jackson's eyes was too much and he huffed out a laugh and stood up from the table. "Come on then, let's see if that arm of yours has got any juice left in it, loser." Jackson  jumped up and grabbed his jacket, smacking Derek on the shoulder as they walked out. When they got to the door, Derek held it open, trying to sound casual when he said, "Oh, and Jackson? You call my mate a twink again and you'll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life."

Jackson smiled softly, even though Derek's face was deadly serious. 

"Noted."

 

Predictably, Jackson spent less time swinging the bat and more time pissing off everyone in the place. It was almost Pavlovian. Every time he saw a ball heading his way, he'd start mouthing off, like he would when he was a catcher in the minors. He had the dubious reputation of the player punched most often by opposing batters and his own team mates during his time in the minors. Probably why he never got called up, despite being a pretty consistent player. On paper, he was pretty good but he was too much of an asshole for anyone to reasonably put up with. 

After a couple of hours, Derek started thinking that Jackson's 'cripple' jibe wasn't too far off the mark. His thigh was aching from crouching and twisting, and he was actually having to concentrate on holding his arm right. But hitting something really hard had the desired effect and Derek's mind was mostly worry free for a while. On the drive home, he realized it was a little disconcerting that Jackson perhaps knew him better than he wanted to admit.

When he got back to the apartment it was empty. He stood at the kitchen counter, tapping his keys on the surface, for about 30 seconds before deciding it was too damn quiet in there without Stiles and headed to the bedroom to change into his running gear. His body was beginning to ache but he needed to get rid of the nervous energy in his chest.

By the time he got back, the shadows were long on the ground and he could feel the evening air creeping in. As he approached the door to the apartment, he could hear voices coming from inside. He was tempted to let his wolf out a little so he could hear a little better but thought better of it. He did pause before he slipped the key in the lock, taking a breath to steady himself.

The conversation stopped abruptly when the front door slammed behind him. It felt strange to be stepping into his own home with such trepidation and he realized too late that maybe going for a run wasn't the best plan after all when he saw Liam's eyes open wide at the sight of him. Turning up flushed and sweating, his teeshirt clinging to his damp chest and his bare legs glistening, probably made him look a little intimidating.

Stiles found it amusing at least. "There you are! And holy crap, sweaty much?" The brothers were sat on the couch. Stiles had his legs tucked up under him, looking more relaxed than Derek had seen him in days. Liam looked like he might faint away, open mouthed, wide-eyed and pale. Derek wasn't sure what he had expected but he felt somehow surprised. Liam was slender, all coltish limbs and big brown eyes. His shirt and jeans both seemed a little too baggy and a little too short to really fit him. His preppy blonde hair was slightly ruffled like he'd been running his hands though it and he didn't seem able to take his eyes off Derek.

Derek smiled and walked over reaching his hand out. "You must be Liam. We're so glad you could come visit."

Liam scrambled to his feet and his handshake was confident even if his voice wasn't. "Um—thanks. I mean, thank you for letting me come. To visit."

Stiles guffawed from his seat. "Oh god, Liam, he's not—Jesus, just sit. And close your mouth, you look like a guppy." Liam blushed and ducked his head as his ass hit the couch hard. Stiles watched him and then smirked up at Derek. "Well, now you're back I guess I should start on making some food? You ready to eat?"

Derek ripped the velcro strap holding his phone from his bicep and dragged the lead of his headphones out from under his shirt. "Yeah, but I don't think you want to be stuck making food when you could be catching up? How about we order in? My treat. Unless you  _ want _ to cook?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, no. That sounds…that would be really nice actually. What do you think, Liam?"

Liam looked at Stiles with the same intensity and wonder that he'd regarded Derek and nodded. "Yeah. Really nice. I mean, if that's okay, and—" His words seemed to peter out and he shrugged.

Stiles looked at him with a warmth that sparked a sting of jealousy in Derek's wolf but when he looked up at Derek there was such relief and pride in his eyes, the Alpha felt a swell of happiness that only having a contented mate could make. He smiled down at them both and announced, "Great. Well, you two decide what we're having while I grab a shower, and then I'll go get us food?"

As he walked out of the room, Derek could hear hushed tones behind him.

_ "Holy shit, Stiles. He's—" _

"I know right! I told you."

"You never said how fucking huge he is! Seems nice though."

"He is. Nice. And that other thing too. In every way."

"Oh god! TMI! Definitely TMI!"

  
  


"Where's the rice? Don't tell me you forgot the rice. And the nan bread." Stiles routed around in another of the bags Derek had unceremoniously dumped on the kitchen counter.

"Ah crap. I must have left it in the car. I'll go get it."

Derek reached for the keys but Stiles snatched them up. "No chance. You've already done enough. I'll go." He strode towards the door before Derek could protest, calling out over his shoulder, "Behave yourself."

The door banged closed behind him and you could have heard a pin drop. That was if it could have made it’s way through the soup of tension that filled the room.

Derek sighed and hoped he could break the excruciating silence by looking at Liam and asking, "Do you think he meant you or me?" He was grateful when Liam smiled shyly and resumed pulling the take-out boxes from the bags.

Derek watched him as he worked quietly. Everything about the boy seemed quiet. Derek was surprised at how he was fixated on the differences between the brothers. They weren't biologically related but still, he was somehow shocked that they weren't more alike. Or at least didn't seem to be in the minutes he'd spent in Liam's company. The one thing they did seem to have in common was an air of kindness, which Derek was very glad for.

Derek gathered up the empty bags and moved them out the way before getting plates straight from the dishwasher and holding them out to Liam one by one, and ventured gently, "Stiles is so happy that you could come, Liam. He's been so excited to see you."

Liam took the plates silently, and nodded. Once he'd placed them carefully on the counter, he seemed to take a breath to steel himself, then replied quietly, "I'm glad I came. I wasn't sure he really wanted to see me or—" He stopped and fixed Derek with a direct stare that Derek almost took for a challenge, even when Liam's words came stuttering out. "I—I feel like I want to a-apologize. To you. I mean, I—um. When they told me that you'd—taken him, I thought—that he would be, I don't know, your—your slave or something. And now I feel—god, I feel so stupid and sorry and—I'm just really sorry I thought that. He's so happy and I—I just wish—I don't know—"

Derek stood and watched the kid tearing himself apart, trying to get the words out, his pale skin blooming bright red on his cheeks and neck and felt his heart break a little for him. He reached out and gently placed his hand on Liam's shoulder. The boy almost buckled. Derek could smell the fear pouring off him and tried his best to sound soft and un-Alpha-like. "Liam, please don't feel like you've done anything wrong. You were worried about your brother and it's totally understandable that you feared the worst. For what it's worth, I will gladly accept your apology, even if it's not warranted and I have to say I really appreciate that you felt that you wanted to make things good between us. Stiles has missed you so much. I know he'd really love it if you were able to spend more time together. And Liam?" Derek waited for the boy to drag his eyes off his shoes and look him in the eye. "Stiles is my mate, my family. Which means as far as I'm concerned, you are my family too. Okay? So you're always welcome here."

Liam’s eyes were wide and he was slightly shaking, but he nodded and smiled shyly.

"Hey! Paws off!"

The two of them turned to see Stiles giving Derek a hard stare as he crossed the room. Derek smiled and let his hand fall away from Liam's shoulder. Stiles wagged his finger at his mate. "I thought I told you to behave."

Derek held up his hands in mock surrender but the wolves were surprised when Liam piped up with, "He was having to restrain me from eating all the onion bhajis. You were taking so long, I thought I was going to starve to death."

 

By some miracle, all the food got eaten and the three of them collapsed on the couch afterwards, the TV on low in the background. Stiles leaned up against Derek's side in one corner, their fingers entwined so their rings clicked together. Liam sprawled out at the other end of the couch, holding his stomach and groaning every time Stiles made him laugh.

"Did Liam tell you he's applying to college here?" Derek pressed his cheek to Stiles’ temple and shook his head slightly. He could feel Stiles beam at Liam who just looked a little embarrassed. "We went by there today, had a look around."

Derek nodded. "Do you know what you want to major in?"

Liam shrugged and looked like he wanted to talk about anything but this. "Engineering, I think. I like—building things."

"It's a good choice, good career options."

Stiles snickered. "A little better than Art History."

Derek poked him hard with his finger. "Hey! I'm doing okay, thank you very much." but his mate kept laughing.

Stiles reached out and rocked Liam's leg with his foot, saying, "I'm kinda surprised you're not staying closer to home, piling into a program with your buddies or something. You still hanging out with the twins? And that kid with the weird ear? What was his name?"

Liam swallowed and shifted in his seat. Derek watched the way that his shoulders tensed, and felt a familiar anxiety well in his stomach. Liam shrugged. "Brian? Yeah, not so much. And besides Gemma's applying here so—"

Stiles smiled and rocked Liam's leg again. "I still can't believe you're going out with Gemma Morel. You got some game, bro."

Liam smirked and pinked up, but still, there was something in his demeanor that had Derek worried. Derek sat up a little straighter and glanced at his watch. "Guys, I don't know about you, but it's getting late and quite frankly I'm not happy about putting Liam on a bus at this time of night." Liam started to protest but Derek just shook his head. "Look, why don't you stay over and head back in the morning? We have the pull-out in the office and it would save your parents from having to collect you in the middle of the night. What do you think?"

Liam looked hopeful but shrugged. "I don't know. Mom probably wouldn't go for it," but Stiles was already on his feet.

"Only one way to find out. I'll call from the office, if that's okay?"

Derek nodded and waited until he heard the office door fall closed before he sat up and fixed Liam with a stare. "How bad is it?"

Liam squirmed under the glare. "I don't know what—"

"Liam. The bullying. How bad is it?"

Liam sighed and brought his hands up to his hair. "Bad. Not as bad as it was for Stiles but yeah. Bad."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Liam shrugged. "Not much to tell. In a way it's been good. Turns out you get to know who your real friends are when people find out your brother is a shapeshifter. Gemma's been great though, I don't think I would have gotten through it without her. But I can't stay there. I need to get out. Looks like I might be able to graduate early, which is something."

"They'd let you do that?"

"The Principal is—he knows what's going on. He's cool with it, but there's not much he can do. Except get me out of there."

Derek rubbed his hands across his face. He remembered how it was for him, the bullying, the name calling, people pissing in his locker, stealing his clothes after practice, and just straight out beating the crap out of him. He didn't deserve it but somehow it seemed infinitely more unfair that it should be happening to the sweet, quiet boy sitting across from him. "Well, you let us know if there's anything we can do, practical help or—if you wanna talk or—" He held out his hands in a vague gesture that made Liam smile and nod in appreciation. Derek sat back and watched him for a moment, listening to the vague lilt of Stiles’ voice, just a murmur coming from the office. He cleared his throat. "I guess it must have been a bit of a shock for you too." Liam looked at him blankly. "Y'know. Finding out about—" Derek motioned over his shoulder with his thumb towards the office.

Liam looked confused for a second and then laughed. "Oh no, I knew." He smiled at Derek's look of surprise. "I was a kid when they found out, not brain dead. Or deaf. I heard what they were saying. Hell, they were yelling it most of the time. Stiles wouldn't talk to me about it though. I think he was scared. I didn't want to upset him so I waited for him to talk to me." He smiled sadly, "But he never did."

Derek swallowed. "He's talking now."

Liam looked up at him and beamed. "Yeah, he is."

There was a clatter in the hall. The office door banged open, and Stiles yelled, "Mom says it's okay but she wants proof of life. Come tell her we haven't sold your kidneys or anything."

  
  


The next morning, Derek slung his arm around Stiles’ shoulders as his mate waved like a dork at the bus as it grumbled away, spewing out diesel fumes into the early morning heat. Liam looked happy under the veneer of mortification as he scowled coyly from the window. Stiles kept waving even when all they could see was the back of the bus disappearing out of sight.

Derek tilted Stiles’ head towards him and kissed him roughly on his hairline. "I like your brother."

Stiles smiled up at him. "Thank you."

Derek cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Just—just, thank you."

Derek stared in confusion at Stiles until his Omega pressed against his chest and whispered, "Take me home."

Derek smiled and kissed his head again. "Yeah. Yeah, I like the sound of that."


	6. Chapter 6

Derek caught a glimpse of his watch as he tried to simultaneously stuff his laptop into his messenger bag, while lifting it over his shoulder. He didn't need to take it but it usually went with him to the office and he was trying his best not to raise Stiles’ suspicions. He cussed silently when he saw the time. He wasn't late but it was going to be close if the traffic was bad. Plus his satnav was an evil bitch that seemed to find perverse pleasure in sending him the scenic route whenever he was in a hurry.

He looked back at his desk as he walked out of the office, just to triple check he hadn't forgotten anything, and almost slammed straight into his mate.

Startled, Stiles jumped back a step. He looked half asleep, face soft, his hair mussed, his body swamped in one of Derek's tee-shirts and the gray sweatpants that he'd taken to wearing around the house. He sucked in a breath and cursed under it, dramatically clutching his hand at his chest. "Jesus, Derek!"

"Shit. Sorry. You okay?" Derek hastily reached out and cupped Stiles' jaw briefly. The words and the touch were perfunctory and they both felt it. Guilt swept over Derek as he immediately turned and hurried down the hall. "I'm running late. I promise I'll make it up to you later."

Stiles shuffled into the kitchen behind him and muttered, "That's what you said yesterday."

It wasn't accusatory but Derek felt the sting. He racked his mind for something to say, something that wouldn't just make him feel less guilty but would actually comfort his mate.

His work hours had been gradually increasing, even though Noah had honored his promise to keep Derek off the road. Stiles said he was fine with it, but it was getting harder on them both. Their mate bond was still new and separation for any significant length of time was physically exhausting, verging on painful. Derek knew they couldn't go on like this.

He pulled his jacket on and struggled to find the words, watching Stiles’ shoulders as he emptied the last of the coffee into a mug, wishing more than anything he could make this easier on him.

Derek paused, clutching his bag strap and trying not to think about the time. He opened his mouth to speak but Stiles spun around, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry, I—god, I'm just in a shitty mood. I don't mean to take it out on you." Stiles walked over and put his arms around Derek, sliding his hands under Derek's jacket. Derek clung to him hard, pressing his mouth against Stiles' temple. There was something a little desperate about it that would seem unwarranted to anyone outside their situation.

Stiles tilted his head up and kissed him, letting his tongue dip briefly into Derek's mouth before pulling his whole body away. Derek instantly missed the contact and leaned forward, chasing Stiles' body heat but his mate braced his hand against Derek's chest and shook his head. "You'll be late. I know you feel bad, you fucking stink of it, but you need to work and I'll be here when you get home."

Derek swallowed and stepped back, disappointed when Stiles’ hand fell away from him to hang at his side. Derek smiled softly. "It won't always be like this. I promise."

Stiles laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Out with you. I have a hard day of mediocre TV in front of me." He was smiling as he ushered Derek out the door but there was a hint of sadness under it that made Derek's stomach churn more than usual when he shut the door behind him.

When he got into the car he slammed the door shut harder than necessary, the sound echoing around the parking garage like a gunshot. He was lying to Stiles. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but now he felt like it was ripping his heart out keeping his mate in the dark. He just wanted to be sure before he talked to him. Derek pulled out into the street, turning the wheel with the heel of one hand, and headed out of the city.

  
  


The journey was easy. It wasn't as far as it looked when he'd surreptitiously checked the address on google maps the night before, and for once even the satnav seemed to take pity on him. Although Derek still felt like crushing the life out of the thing with it's smug,  _ "You have arrived at your destination" _ as he pulled into the parking lot.

The building in front of him didn't so much loom up, as nestle down. Derek's high school years had been less than fun, so his subconscious always conjured up bleak institutional architecture and prison rules in the yard. This looked more like something Martha Stewart might have had a hand in. Pre-incarceration, obviously.

The main building was smaller than he'd imagined. There seemed to be quite a few new additions, what looked like a brand new extension of mostly glass, and a couple of smaller buildings that had the same white render as the main school. The spaces in between were grassy, well-kept with plenty of neat trees and clean benches.

The few kids milling around looked similarly bright and breezy. There was no dress code or uniform by the looks of it. Derek passed a couple of girls sitting on the long, wide flight of shallow steps up to the main building. They looked up at him with curiosity. He smiled slightly and kept moving, grimacing a little to himself when he heard them erupt into laughter behind him and wondered when the hell he'd gotten so old.

Derek gave his name at the reception and squished his large frame into the horribly uncomfortable chair outside the Principle's office, feeling fifteen again and offering the same silent prayer that they weren't going to call his dad. He offered a thousand thanks to the heavens when the door opened moments later and a guy in a sweater vest beckoned him in.

The Principle shook his hand and Derek was surprised how confident, verging on intimidating, the guy seemed, despite the fact that he had a softness about him that could be mistaken for weakness.

Derek smiled politely as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs on the visitor side of the desk. The office was neat, despite the stacks of files on the desk, and filing cabinets, and windowsills. The desk had some personal touches, a potted fern and a framed family portrait, but the planner in front of the computer had some of the neatest, most organized notes that Derek had ever seen.

"Mr Hale, thank you for coming."

"Oh, Derek, please. Thank you for seeing me."

The Principle's smile was warm. "Well, in that case it's Alan. Unless there's a student in the room, and then it's Mr Deaton or Principle Deaton. We try to keep it pretty casual around here but there's a limit." He sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, which made Derek instantly feel a little more relaxed himself. "So, Derek. Coach tells me you used to play professionally?"

Derek shifted slightly in his chair, remembering finally that this was an interview and he should really act like it. He cleared his throat. "Um, yes. A few years in the minors and then a season and a half in the majors. I was injured out but stayed with the team as a scout."

Deaton nodded, attentively. "And so why the career change?"

Derek smiled. "I recently married—" Internally, he fist bumped himself for not stumbling over the word. “I really want to settle down and not be away from home so much. And it doesn't feel so much like a career change so much as assuming a different role. Working with the kids has always been the best part of the job for me so—" He didn't feel the need to finish, just shrugged and echoed the Principle's friendly smile.

"And what about the teaching role? I'm assuming Mr Argent mentioned that to you?" Derek nodded as Deaton opened the file sitting in front of him and pulled down the glasses that were sitting on his head to read a few lines. "You majored in Art History?"

"And English." Derek peered over the desk at the paperwork, and tried not to sound too defensive about it. "I don't have my teaching certification yet, of course."

Deaton pulled the glasses off his face and shook his head. "Of course. That's fine. If we could afford it, I'd be happy to just have you here coaching but I'm afraid you'll have to pay your way in the classroom too. If you decide to take the position, that is."

Derek nodded and felt some of the tension drain out of him. He'd expected to have to fight for the job but it looked like they really wanted him there after all. Of course, the burst of confidence was short lived.

Deaton cleared his throat. "I hate to have to—it says here you're an Alpha?"

Derek bristled. He couldn't help it. It always came back to this eventually. Fortunately the Principle looked as unhappy about having to ask the question as Derek felt about answering it. Derek just nodded in response.

Deaton shrugged and tried to break the tension. "Well, about 25% of our students are werewolves. And we have four betas and an Omega on staff so—do you think that—I mean—"

Derek suddenly felt really sorry for the guy. He was clearly horribly uncomfortable with having to say it. "That sound's fine. If there are any issues, I'm pretty sure we can work through it. Plus, as I said, I'm recently mated so that should hopefully make things more straight-forward."

Deaton sat up. "Oh,  _ oh _ . Sorry, I thought you said…yes, of course. Well, that does make a difference."

For a moment, Derek thought he was going to have to discuss the ins and outs of pack dynamics in the workplace, but thankfully there was a knock on the door, and it opened behind him. He twisted in his seat, and smiled gratefully when he saw who it was.

He stood as the Principle said, "Ah, Coach. You made it. You know Mr Hale, I think?"

Chris Argent smiled widely. "I sure do. Nice to see you, Derek. Been a while."

The coach looked older than the last time Derek had seen him, more silver in his dark hair and more lines on his face but still the same guy. And Derek still got the same flutter of hero worship in his chest too. Derek took his proffered hand and shook it warmly. "Yes, sir. It has. Thank you for seeing me today."

Chris laughed. "I think we're both a little old for you to be calling me 'Sir'. If we're going to be working together, I think a first name basis is more appropriate. Plus, we don't want the team laughing you off the field, your first day." His pale blue eyes sparkled at that and he bark out a laugh. Derek was suddenly hit with the memory of that sound, drifting up to his bedroom window on the summer nights when Chris and Noah would stay up drinking and shooting the shit until long after Derek fell asleep.

"Alan, are you done with him for now? I'd like to show him around."

The Principle looked like he was about to argue for a moment but then shook his head. "Yes. Sure. I guess you should go over—everything." He checked his watch. "How about we meet back here in one hour?"

Derek nodded, and Chris clapped him on the back and led him away.

They talked comfortably as Chris led him through the hallways, pointing out classrooms, the teachers lounge, the spot where different cliques seemed to congregate. Derek nodded and laughed, pleasantly surprised to find himself feeling relaxed by the atmosphere and Chris’s gentle voice.

The first time Noah had introduced Derek to Chris, Derek's mouth dropped open so hard he thought it might leave a bruise on his chest. The fact that an honest-to-God, major league player was sitting in Noah's backyard, laughing at his dumb face was just too much. He didn't come around very often but when he did, they would inevitably end up on the lawn, Derek holding the bat over his shoulder while Chris corrected his stance, or huddled in front of a grainy video with Chris critiquing Derek's choice of play, while Derek winced at his gangly body surfing the dust and not making the plate.

Derek smelt the locker room before they turned the corner. That teenage sweat stink that triggered a rush of nostalgia and sense memories so vivid, he could have sworn he was sixteen again. It was never a dirt thing. The scent was simply ingrained in the wooden benches and the tiled floors. When they walked out of the building onto the field, the effect was the same. The feel of the sun hitting his face, the snick of a bat hitting a ball, the effortful sounds of boys running fielding drills or taking turns at stepping up to bat, idle chatter, laughter and busy noise filling the air.

The two men walked onto the field, Chris pointing out the various improvements that had been made since he had arrived there, and the other coach that they'd be working with, who stopped his gentle smiling instruction long enough to send a two fingered salute their way, before turning his attention back to adjusting the stance of the kid towering over him.

Chris smiled. "DJ is a little—well, his teaching methods are a bit hippy for my taste but he works wonders with some of the kids." His voice slowed and trailed off towards the end, his attention piqued by the catcher springing up from his crouched position. Derek followed his gaze and saw the kid stalking angrily toward the pitcher who was smirking down at his glove.

Chris muttered, "Ah, crap." and hurried toward them.

The catcher yanked the mask from his face and started yelling at the pitcher as Chris and Derek approached. Derek couldn't quite make out what he was saying but he could see the rage in the boy's face. Chris was calling out to him to quit it. When the kid finally dragged his eyes away, it was Derek he looked at. Derek saw his eyes flash, just before he threw his mask and glove down hard at his feet and stormed back towards the locker room.

Derek was surprised that Chris's attention remained on the pitcher. He followed the coach onto the diamond, trailing slowly toward the mound behind Chris but keeping an eye on the retreating figure to their left. Chris started chewing out the pitcher, a tall, broad-shouldered kid, who threw his arms wide in despair and pleaded innocence with the faintest afterglow of a smug smile on his lips.

Derek stopped and bent down to retrieve the mask and glove, slapping the dust off them against his thigh. He caught Chris's eye and raised his eyebrows towards the locker room. Chris nodded without breaking his tirade, and Derek turned and walked away.

The sound of fist versus locker greeted him, the metallic clang echoing around the room, painful even without Derek's enhanced hearing. He stood quietly, leaning against the doorframe, and watched the kid taking his frustrations out on the furniture, his face red and twisted in rage, his curly blonde hair soaked with sweat at the ends hitting his forehead every time he lunged at the locker.

When he finally noticed Derek leaning in the doorway, his body stiffened and he braced his forearms against the locker, letting his head drop down, legs spread as if Derek was about to frisk him or something. Derek recognized the position from some faddish "How to tame your werewolf" type manual that had come out when he was in college, written by humans, for humans. Neither of which knew any better. There had been actual book burnings.

Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and held out the glove and mask hanging loosely in his hand. "I think you dropped these."

The kid squeezed his eyes shut, the rage dissipating, replaced with despair in his voice. "Keep 'em."

Derek sighed and dropped them on the bench as he walked passed the kid. The boy tensed as he approached, then seemed confused when he walked away. Derek could feel eyes on him as he went to the vending machine in the corner. He pulled some change from his pocket and two bottles of water clunked down into the trap. When he turned around the kid was openly staring at him. Derek tried not to smile. He gestured with one of the water bottles to the bench the boy was standing over. "Sit."

The boy unfurled himself slowly from the stress position and sank to the wooden bench, warily eyeing the bottle Derek was holding out. It took a second or two before he gingerly reached out and allowed Derek to put it in his hand. Derek sat next to him, keeping a little distance and using the glove and mask as a barrier between them. Derek cracked the seal on his bottle and sat back against the lockers. He brought the bottle to his lips and asked, "What did he do?" before taking a drink.

The boy huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, swiping the condensation from the bottle with both thumbs. "What makes you think it wasn't something I did?"

Derek shrugged. "What  _ you _ did was lose your temper. Which is stupid. But I get it."

The boy twisted the cap off the bottle like he wished he was wringing someone's neck. "He never fucking stops. Never. And I can take it in class and in here but on the field—he never listens! No matter what play I call, he deliberately pitches something different. Every fucking time! I don't give a shit that he doesn't like me but I swear he's trying to get me kicked off the team and there's no way. Just—no way."

Derek could feel the rage welling up again, and when he heard the plastic bottle cracking in the kid's fist, he reached over and placed his hand on the back of the boy's neck, gripping him tightly. The kid flinched but relaxed into it. It was a risk, a bit too familiar maybe but Derek could see he needed it.

The kid sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Derek shrugged, giving one more squeeze before taking his hand away. "It's okay. I know how hard it can be. But you have to find a way to deal with it. The only person who can get you kicked off the team is you. You gotta find a way to stop him from getting to you."

The kid smiled and sat back, nodding. "I know." He took a drink of water and then looked coyly at Derek. "You're Derek Hale."

Derek laughed. "Well. A long time ago."

The kid beamed. "I saw you play." Derek shot him a doubtful look but the kid twisted in his seat to face him. "No, I did. My—my dad used to take me to games before— He was a real big fan. I remember him ranting when you lost out on MVP to Bryant."

Derek recapped his water bottle a little harder than necessary. "Yeah, well. It was a long time ago."

The kid shifted back around, nodding and looking a little embarrassed before saying quietly, "I'm Isaac."

Derek smiled. "Nice to meet you, Isaac." He held out his hand, and Isaac blushed and smiled shyly as he awkwardly shook it.

"Everything okay in here?"

Derek and Isaac looked up as Chris rounded the corner. Derek shrugged and held up his bottle. "Yup. All good, Coach."

Chris looked between the two wolves and smiled. "Well, okay then. In that case, Lahey get your ass back on the field, son."

  
  


Derek sat in the car for a long while, his eyes closed, soaking up the sun blasting through the windshield, before he finally picked up his phone and started to dial.

 

"Noah? I'm good. Are you busy tonight?"

  
  
  


When he got back to the apartment, he gave a wry smile at the fact that Stiles was indeed sat on the couch, wearing the same clothes as when he'd left this morning, watching a telenovella. He looked like he'd been there all day but Derek could smell cleaning products and the slight metallic hum coming from the office, indicating the computer had been on for a while. Stiles didn't take his eyes off the TV when Derek slumped down into the space next to him, just said, "You're back early." and slid his hand between Derek's thighs.

Derek covered the hand with his own and laced their fingers together, keeping his eyes on the TV too, and shrugged. "You speak Spanish?"

Stiles made a noncommittal noise and gestured at the drama. A guy and a woman were arguing. She tried to leave, but he grabbed her by the upper arm and swung her around and clasped her to his chest.

"It's not like you really need to. I remember some from school but it's not hard to follow."

Derek nodded. "You eat yet?" Stiles kept his eyes on the screen, reached out and held up a giant bag of chips from the cushion next to him. Derek scoffed and shook his head when Stiles offered them. "I thought chips didn't count as food?"

Stiles smiled and glanced at his mate. "Did I say that?" His eyes drifted back to the Javier's impassioned speech. "So, why are you home early? Did you get fired?"

Stiles’ voice was low and serious, and Derek was about to protest in the strongest possible terms that no, he had not been fired and why would he even think that, when he spotted Stiles’ lips curling up. Instead, he dragged their joined hands up to his crotch. "Maybe. Want to console me?"

Stiles smirked. He worked his fingers free, and palmed at the growing bulge in Derek’s suit pants. "Maybe. Although you're going to have to give me five minutes. I need to know if Maria is going to realize she's been banging twins this whole time."

Derek coughed out a laugh and kissed the side of Stiles’ head before he got to his feet. "Okay, but don't be too long." He started stripping off his jacket as he walked to the bedroom, calling back, "We're going out tonight."

  
  


Stiles stood beside him fiddling with the collar of his shirt until Derek bumped him with his shoulder, hissing out, "Will you stop twitching. It's gonna be fine."

Stiles glared up at him. "Stop saying that, it's not helping."

He let out a long breath and faced forward again, waiting for the door in front of them to open. It didn't. Derek was tempted to press the doorbell again, when there was a noise from within.

Stiles whimpered and tugged at his collar again, hissing, "This is not what I thought you meant by 'going out',"

Derek straightened up as he heard the door being unlocked, and whispered back, "Well, we're not in the house, are we?"

Finally, the door was flung open. A woman in a red shift dress, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and the brightest smile was on the other side.

"You're here!" She looked between them both, before going right to Derek and throwing her arms around his neck. "Hi, stranger! Where you been keeping yourself?"

Derek hugged her back the best he could while trying to keep the foil covered plate in his hand from dropping. "Hey, Mel. Been kinda busy."

She slapped him on the chest as she pulled away and raised her eyebrows at him. "I bet." Derek rolled his eyes at her, but she was already glancing at Stiles expectantly. "Well—"

It took Derek a second before he realized. "Oh God, yes, sorry. Um, Melissa, this is my husband, Stiles. Stiles, this is Melissa, my—well. Melissa."

Stiles managed to smile while still retaining the look of sheer terror on his face. Melissa beamed at him, her whole body seemingly trying to keep a burst of excitement inside.

She looked up at Derek and sighed. "You did good, Derek. Real good." Derek rolled his eyes again but felt a flush of embarrassment and pride color his cheeks. Melissa gestured with her head towards Stiles and asked, "Is it okay if—?"

Derek smirked, nodding as he took a step away. Melissa wrapped her arms around Stiles and squeezed him, saying softly, "Welcome to the family, hon." Stiles stared, terrified, at Derek for a moment then seemed to relax into the embrace, smiling coyly when Melissa pulled away.

Melissa sighed and looked lovingly at the pair, before stepping to the side and waving them in, declaring, "Well, what the hell are you standing there for? Get your butts in here! The old man's out the back, messing with the grill. I'll fetch him." She pointed at the plate in Derek's hand, "You know what to do with that. And shoes off, Hale, just in case you forgot." She yelled the last bit over her shoulder as she disappeared into the house, and preceded to holler out for Noah.

Derek laughed at Stiles’ shell-shocked expression as he gazed after her. He bent and kissed him quickly on the neck, as he toed off his shoes and pushed them into line with the neat row of assorted footwear stowed along the hallway. "She's something, huh?'

Stiles nodded slowly, then looked up questioningly. "Did she—did she really ask you if she could hug me? Or—?"

Derek shrugged, feeling a little reluctant to answer. "It's a thing." Stiles clearly wasn't buying it, so Derek sighed out, "Yes, she asked permission to hug you. Melissa's been around werewolves her whole life so she's good with the formal stuff. It's bad form to touch an Alpha's mate without asking first, especially the first time. It does make sense in a way, sometimes the wolf can get a little…oversensitive about that stuff."

Derek swallowed, feeling horrible about having to basically admit that his wolf was a possessive a-hole, but Stiles’ eyes were shining, and he was biting the inside of his mouth, trying not to laugh as he asked, "So you're saying your wolf thinks your boss's wife wants to 'bad touch' me?"

Derek shoulder checked him and tried not to smile. "Ah, shut up. And take off your shoes. She wasn't kidding."

  
  


Everything went fine. Better than fine. Once dessert was safely stowed in the refrigerator and Stiles had stopped waxing lyrical about the size of their kitchen, they found Melissa struggling to extricate Noah from the grill in the back yard. He welcomed Stiles just as enthusiastically as Melissa, although stuck to a handshake rather than hugging. Then he sent Derek off to give Stiles 'the tour', reminding him loudly that, " _ the no-sex-in-the-house rule still applies, son.  And don't you close that bedroom door either, _ " which made Stiles blanche, and then burst out laughing as they climbed the stairs.

Still, it gave Derek a chance to talk about how he'd come to live with the Stilinskis, about being forced out of his home but finding a new one. How they'd made him feel like family, not just a prospect needing room and board.

Stiles didn't say much. He listened to the anecdotes, nodded in all the right places, and slipped his hand into Derek's when he started to get a little maudlin. They ended up making out at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, Derek's body pushing Stiles’ hard up against the wall, except it was all about comfort and reassurance, despite making each other hard in the process.

Stiles was quiet for most of the evening but started to warm up once the food started to make an appearance, helping Melissa bring what looked like enough for eight people out to the big wooden table at the edge of the lawn. Derek perched on the raised flowerbed next to the grill, sipping at a beer, chatting with Noah, and smirking at Stiles every time he walked past.

Then they sat and they ate, and everything was delicious. It felt like a relaxed family dinner. Stiles started to open up. It seemed to be all going so well. Until it wasn't.

The sky had started to darken and there was a nip in the air that they could only ignore for so long. All four of them pushed back their chairs and grabbed an empty plate or two from the table and headed inside. Derek went back out for a second trip, leaving the others to scrape the remains of ribs and chicken into the bin, and start stacking the dishwasher, casually chatting and laughing. Except when he came back inside he could feel waves of anxiety pouring off Stiles.

Noah was prattling away and Melissa was talking too but Stiles was stood rigid against the counter, looking between them with a confused look on his face. Derek went straight to him. "What is it?" he asked in a low voice, but Stiles just shook his head and tried to smile.

"We were asking Stiles about what he wants to do now. Or at least once you guys are properly settled," Melissa said chirpily.

Noah nodded. "Career's an important thing. Career changes can be a real good thing too, of course." He gave Derek a less than subtle wink to let him know that he hadn't let the cat out of the bag, but Derek was more concerned about how Stiles seemed to draw away from him as the others talked.

Derek kept his eyes on Stiles and the way he seemed to be willing the floor under his feet to open up and swallow him, and made a realization that took him aback. "I guess we haven't talked about that ourselves yet, have we?" The way that Stiles just shrugged and slid further away started to freak Derek's wolf out. Instead, he tried for reassuring. "'S okay. It's not like you have to decide tonight."

Stiles looked up at him, completely perplexed. Derek shook his head. "What is it? Stiles—"

Stiles swallowed and said quietly, "I just thought—" He seemed to choke on the words, struggling to find the will to continue. Derek tried to ignore the fact that Melissa had stopped what she was doing at the sink, and kept his focus on his mate. Stiles swallowed. "I just thought—because I'm—I didn't think…"

Derek got it, suddenly. Somehow, Stiles had thought that Derek wanted him barefoot and pregnant, good for nothing but staying home so he could raise pups all day and get knotted all night. That old fashioned bullshit that his father had clung to that Omegas should been seen and not heard, too stupid to do anything but be bred. It was so ridiculous, Derek laughed, loud. Because it was so off the mark it was funny.

Stiles’ face flushed red and he turned to Melissa and asked quietly, "Do you mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Of course, sweetheart. You know where it is?" Her voice was gentle but as Stiles nodded and scuttled out of the room she fixed Derek with a stare that could flay skin.

Derek couldn't do anything but stand there with his mouth hanging open, until Melissa muttered something inaudible but clearly offensive and the spell broke. Derek slumped onto one of the stools at the counter and covered his face with his hands. "What just—? Oh my God! I can't believe I'm fucking this up already."

He couldn't understand how Stiles could think that, think that Derek was the kind of mate to deny him—well, anything. But worse, he couldn't understand how he had missed it. Thinking back, whenever they had got close to talking about what Stiles wanted to be when he was growing up or what he could see himself doing in the future, Stiles would go off on a tangent or steer the conversation carefully away so they would end up talking  _ around _ the subject, but never about it. Stiles had resigned himself to that existence just because he wanted to make Derek happy. And Derek had given him no reason to think otherwise.

Derek felt stupid. He thought that things were going so well, that they were getting to know each other. Now he realized he was only finding out what Stiles wanted him to know. Or maybe saying the things he thought Derek wanted to hear. Stiles didn't trust him. Derek had been letting him down and he had no clue he was even doing it.

Panic hit him from nowhere, panic that Stiles would leave him, which was unlikely but not impossible. More probable was that he would whither away to nothing. He'd heard of that happening, mates trapped by the bond, unable to leave but so unhappy they just became a husk, doing nothing, feeling nothing. He was horrified at the thought that he'd trapped Stiles in a life that might rob him of all that vitality he'd had that first night Derek saw him, dancing with abandon, laughing like the world was spinning just for him.

Without even thinking about it, Derek started to let his wolf out a little, just so he could hear his mate, make sure he hadn't run out without him noticing. Derek's hearing sharpened, and suddenly everything was in focus. Smells that had been just out of reach, assaulted his nose, and the quiet room was suddenly blaringly loud.

Derek didn't really even need to focus, his senses zeroed in on Stiles without trying. He was sobbing. Hard, angry, silent sobs of humiliation and frustration. Derek's wolf howled and he was about to get up when he took a punch to the arm.

It was hard, but really just enough to snap him back to the moment. Derek pulled his hands away from his face and glared at Melissa who was trying to wag her finger at him. She couldn't quite manage to straighten her hand out, and instead cradled her fist to her chest, saying sternly, "I see what you're doing! Stop it! Give the poor boy his privacy, at least!"

Derek held her gaze for a second longer, then backed down, his body sagging. He might be an Alpha but there was no arguing with her, she was vicious. "God, I'm sorry. Sorry," he muttered.

Melissa walked around behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back so she could rest her chin on his head. It looked like affection but it wasn't. Well, partly. Derek's heart was pounding and his wolf was desperately scrabbling around, trying to get Derek to go drag Stiles back.

Melissa knew it and knew just how to calm him. Getting Derek to submit to her sent a message to his wolf that, yes, he was an Alpha, and yes, Derek was his mate and needed him, but ultimately when Melissa was in the room, she was the one in control.

It was a pattern they'd established early on and made no difference now that Derek was immensely stronger than her and could squash her like a bug. It was that fact that had made it so important in the first place.

She shifted and laid her cheek against the side of his head. "You shouldn't have laughed, Derek. That was cruel."

Derek tried to shake his head but she held him tight, so he mumbled out, "God, I know. I'm sorry. It just took me by surprise. I just can't believe he thought that of me."

The hug started to feel a little more like a head lock, as Melissa tightened her grip. "Okay first, stop apologizing to me. It's Stiles you should be groveling to. And second, this isn't about you. Stop with the self pity and start thinking about how you're going to fix this." She kissed him on the side of the head roughly and pushed him upright. "Now, get out. The pair of you." Noah looked up, chicken leg halfway to his mouth, all wide-eyed innocence. He was about to protest but Melissa silenced him with a glare. "No. Out. Go clean that grill before it gets putrid like last time. I'll bring coffee out when it's ready."

Derek trailed after Noah to the backyard, listening to him huff and bluster about it not being fair that he was in the doghouse when Derek was the one that had screwed up and that it was one time he'd left the grill to go funky and that was only because he'd had one beer too many and Derek should be the one cleaning it but goddamn, no-one is touching that grill but him.

Noah had the presence of mind to grab a sweater on the way out but Derek was still in his shirtsleeves. He spent the time wishing he felt the cold more, so at least it would feel like some kind of punishment for being such a fool. Noah asked him questions about Stiles and their relationship, things he would never have normally asked. Noah was very aware that Derek had a hard time talking about anything personal and Derek had always appreciated it. But he appreciated him pushing too.

Noah offered advice, talked about some of the difficulties he and Melissa had come through, some of which Derek had been there to witness, and it helped. It was good to be reminded that his being bonded to Stiles just meant they were only mates. It was having a relationship that needed work. And  _ that _ was going to take time.

Twenty minutes later, Melissa appeared with a tray filled with steaming mugs and the pecan pie the boys had brought for dessert. She glanced behind her and Derek followed her gaze to see Stiles hovering in the doorway.

His eyes were a little red and he looked embarrassed more than anything. Part of Derek wanted to give him some space, let Stiles come to him in is own time so he didn't get upset. But it was easily overwhelmed by the other part that had Derek immediately taking long strides to his mate, practically lift him off the ground in a hug, and burying his face in Stiles’ neck, begging for forgiveness. They stayed like that for a moment, both apologizing and kissing each other, until Noah cleared his throat loudly, and called out, "What did I say earlier about sex in the house?"

Stiles huffed out a laugh, and pressed his forehead to Derek's, before looking over and saying with a smirk, "Technically, we aren’t in the house"

  
  


By the time they got home, it was late.

Stiles had been okay over coffee, talking and smiling but he hadn't said a word in the car on the way back and Derek really didn't feel like pushing it. They turned into the parking garage, the tungsten light creating weird shadows in the car as Derek pulled up and parked. He turned off the engine and for some reason neither of them moved. They just sat, listening to the engine tick as it cooled.

Until Stiles said, out of the blue, "Nursing."

Derek shot a confused look at him, so Stiles swallowed and clarified, less confidently, "Um, that's what I wanted. I mean—that's what think I want to do. Be a nurse. With kids, maybe. I think."

Derek's eyebrows shot up and he twisted in his seat to face his mate. "Oh. Oh that's—yeah. Yeah, I can see that."

"You can?" Stiles looked a little surprised and wary.

"Yes! I think you'd be great at that. You're really caring and you like taking care of people. Well. You take care of me, anyway." Derek ventured a smile and was happy to see Stiles smile back. "You know Melissa works at a hospital, right? Maybe she could—?"

Stiles was already nodding. "Yeah, we talked a little about it."

There was a moment of strained silence before Derek said, "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't talk to me about this. It's my fault I know and I am sorry—"

Stiles reached over and took his hand. "We both suck at this, it's not just your fault. We just have to keep trying. And no more hiding anything."

He smiled and squeezed Derek's hand but looked a little worried when Derek pulled it free and said, "Yeah. About that—"

Derek reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out the official job offer Alan Deaton had handed him earlier that day. He tapped the edges of the envelope with his fingers before turning and placing it in Stiles' hands.

He waited for Stiles to open it and start reading, before he asked, "So, how do you feel about moving? Again."


	7. Chapter 7

Derek walked into the locker room with his head down, ignoring the cacophony—it sounded like it should be coming from 100 kids, not twenty—marking the sheets in his hand with a sharpie. Crossing off names, making big loopy arrows and notes in his small tight handwriting. He hadn't officially started his new job yet but Chris was letting him come in anyway to learn the ropes a couple of days a week.

The boys were finishing up after practice, the air thick with steam and Axe, the sound of their chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls. He wasn't really paying attention to any of it, until one of the boys passing in front of him said, "'Night, Coach." Derek looked up and mumbled goodnight, remembering the kid's name at the last second, before the significance of it caught in his chest.

He never thought he would be satisfied with this. A part-time assistant coach in a small school almost no-one had ever heard of. But it felt so right, felt like he'd finally found his place. If he couldn't be on the field then this was definitely where he should be. He couldn't help smiling to himself.

Derek's chest puffed up with pride and satisfaction, and he glanced around the room at the last of the stragglers getting their things together. He was about to head into the office to pack up himself, when his attention was caught by a pair of laces.

The laces belonged to Aaron. Smart kid, popular, decent pitcher, always draped in a cheerleader whenever Derek saw him in the halls. And, of course, the bully that was making Isaac’s life a misery.

Derek shouldn't have favorites, there's no 'i' in team and all that, but after the heart-to-heart they had on the day Derek first arrived at the school, he couldn't help but look out for the kid. He didn't single him out for any special treatment but it was clear things weren't good at home, so he tried to be a little more Alpha with him than the other kids, in the hopes it would ground him, give him something to focus on. He wasn't sure if it was working but Isaac hadn't assaulted any more lockers as far as he was aware.

Aaron seemed to be having trouble with his laces. Tying, untying, retying. Derek's curiosity was piqued, especially as Aaron didn't appear to be looking at his feet at all, his eyes slanted up, looking through his floppy, preppy bangs. Derek sidled a little closer, trying to get into a position where he could look down Aaron's eye-line. His heart clenched when he finally saw what Aaron was looking at. Isaac was struggling to yank his bag from his locker, laughing at whatever the boy next to him was saying. When he reached his arm around his friend's neck and pulled him close, Aaron looked away, his shoulders slumping, angrily tightening the laces on his trainers like they'd done something to deserve it.

Derek couldn't quite believe it for a second, wasn’t quite sure if what he was seeing was right. But then everything seemed to suddenly make sense. He walked slowly up to where Aaron was looking down, scowling and muttering to himself. He was so preoccupied that he didn't seem to notice Derek at all. Eventually, Derek stuck out his foot and toed at the bag lying underneath the bench where Aaron had fixed his eyes. "You need a hand there?"

Aaron stood up with a jolt, then swallowed and shook his head, bending back down to tie the other shoe, trying not to look guilty. "No, I'm good, Coach." He scooped up his bag and started to walk away, but when Derek leaned into his path, he pulled up, rocking back on his heels.

Derek said low, "Y'know, you could just talk to him." Aaron looked up, color flushing over his cheeks, jaw going slack. Derek smiled very slightly and shrugged. "I just mean—you're a little old to be pulling his pigtails, don't you think?"

Derek half expected the boy to bolt. Teenage feelings weren't exactly the easiest topic of conversation and certainly not with an adult that he barely knew, so Derek was a little taken aback when Aaron actually took a step back and let out a huge defeated sigh.

"I really don't think—I mean—" He glanced over his shoulder at Isaac laughing and chatting with his friends. He let out another massive sigh and turned back. "He's that, and well, I'm—I really don't think he'd be interested in me."

Derek nodded and tried to resist the urge to high-five himself for finally getting to the bottom of the situation. "Yeah, you're right. There's a distinct possibility that could happen. But don't you think Isaac deserves to decide that for himself?"

Aaron looked at his feet and shrugged. Derek wanted to thump him or shake him or both but sounded calm and casual when he said, "Well, at least give it a try. Be nice." He looked down at the shuffling kid and rolled his eyes. "Well, at least stop being a jerk to him. See how that works."

Aaron shrugged again. "I don't mean to be. I try not to, I just—" He looked over his shoulder again, watching Isaac pull on his jacket. He looked up at Derek, pleading with his eyes. "You won't say anything to him? To anyone?"

Derek looked horrified. "Oh God, no. No, this is between the two of you." He wanted to say more, to be reassuring, but this was hardly his area. He tried to think about what Melissa would say in his shoes. "But I do think you should talk to him. Even if it doesn't go the way you want it to, I still think it'll make you feel better. Make you both feel better. I know  _ friends _ isn't where you want this to end up but that would be better than this, don't you think?"

Aaron nodded and tried to smile. Derek clapped him on the shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief as he left, hoping he said the right thing. Of course, he knew Aaron making nice was only half the solution. Derek stood for a second before deciding to at least give the other side of the equation a hand. Which would either make things better, or much, much worse.

"Isaac!" He didn't call out too loud but it got the boy's attention. Isaac told his friends he'd meet them outside and then followed Derek further back into the room, hopefully out of earshot of anyone lingering unseen.

"Coach? What's up?"

Derek suddenly felt awkward and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked into Isaac’s concerned face. "Okay, this might sound a bit—I want you to do something for me." Isaac’s mouth quirked up but he looked uneasy. Derek laughed. "God, that sounds—nevermind. Look, I just wanted—if Aaron comes to you and tries to be nice, can you please just give him a chance?"

Isaac’s mouth dropped open and he tilted his head to one side. " _ Aaron _ ? Aaron, can't-stand-my-guts Aaron?" Derek nodded but Isaac couldn't quite grasp it. "Why in the hell—? Oh god, did you say something to him?"

Derek sighed and tipped his head back. "No! No, I would never—okay, look he said something to me that made me think he wants to stop being such an—anyway, I just wanted to make sure that if he tries to be nice or just—normal, that you don't throw it back in his face."

Isaac scoffed. "Yeah well, it's not like he wouldn't deserve it."

"Which is why I'm telling you not to."

" _ Telling _ me?"

"Don't make me say it, Isaac."

"Ah, crap." Isaac rubbed his knuckles along the line of his jawline and sighed. "Okay, then."

Derek looked down at him seriously. "You'll give him a chance?"

Isaac took a deep breath and met his gaze. "Yes, Alpha."

Derek smiled and cupped the back of Isaac’s neck. "Good boy. You know I only want what's best for the both of you?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah. I know. We done?"

Derek nodded and shook him slightly before releasing his hold. Isaac grinned widely at him and jogged away, calling out to his friends. Derek watched him go and prayed he'd done the right thing.

  
  


Stiles spotted Melissa in the queue through the window of the coffeeshop and waved nervously. She beamed back at him and beckoned him in. It was lunchtime so the place was crowded, warm despite the air-con. She hugged him tight, like she always did, and asked, "So what will you have?" before sending him off to find a table.

Stiles found a small one right in the corner, and took the chair that meant his back was against the wall. Defensible space, Scott always called it. Had called it. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. He and Derek had spent a lot of time in her company, but this was the first time they'd met when it was just the two of them. It felt weird but good.

He had been a little nervous about calling her in the first place but she'd sounded genuinely happy to hear from him, and when she suggested meeting for coffee in her lunch break, he really wanted to go.

 

Derek had been sat up against the headboard, bare chested, engrossed in a novel when Stiles came out of the bathroom, clasping his hands together, and stood at the foot of the bed. Derek looked up without raising his head.

Stiles cleared his throat. "I was wondering if it would be okay for me to meet Melissa for coffee tomorrow?"

Derek straightened up and lay the book in his lap. And then he just sat there, looking at Stiles, not saying a word. Stiles knew what he'd done and blushed a little. They were trying, but communication was still a work in progress.

Stiles sighed and tried again. "I'm going for coffee with Melissa tomorrow."

Derek smiled, picked up his book and scanned the page to find his place. "That sounds good. You need me to drive you?"

Stiles couldn't help grinning and climbed onto the bed, pushing Derek's legs apart through the light sheet covering them. "No, I can get the bus." He settled down on his front, making Derek raise his book in the air. He pulled the sheet down, letting it drag over Derek's mass of curls and half-hard cock. "I could come and meet you later, if you need to go into the office, and you could drive me home?"

Derek started to say, "That sounds like a good idea." But the last couple of words were lost in a groan as Stiles sucked him into his throat and swallowed.

 

Melissa banged the tray down on the table a little too enthusiastically, making the mugs slop coffee over the sides, and yanked Stiles out of his reverie.

She hissed at her clumsiness and asked, "What are you daydreaming about?" Stiles grinned and Melissa barked out a laugh. "Oh God! Do you two never stop? Christ, you're like rabbits."

Stiles laughed and grabbed some napkins to help mop up the tray. "I guess we're still in that honeymoon period thing."

Melissa smiled and slid into her seat. "Yeah? How's that working out for you?" Her tone was half serious and it made Stiles’ skin pink up.

He shrugged. "Well—I guess  _ that _ side of things is pretty much perfect—"

Melissa caught the hesitation and stopped unloading the tray, mug in mid air, prompting him as much with the movement of her head as her probing, "But?"

Stiles smiled shyly and shook his head. "It's better, it is. But we're still both working on it. I think we both want the same things, it's just—we'll get better at talking about it, I know we will."

Melissa reached over and squeezed his hand briefly before sliding a mug of coffee and a muffin in front of him. "You'll both do just fine, Hon. You're both intelligent, kind and head over heels for each other. It'll work itself out."

Stiles smirked down at his muffin, picking at the paper cup and slowly unwrapping it. "He's started doing this thing. He prints off college applications and prospectus pages, and just leaves them lying around the place."

Melissa huffed out a laugh. "Well, at least that's something. One day you do need to have a conversation—"

 

"Oh, no," Stiles looked up smiling. "That's the thing. We did talk. I told him I needed to think things over before I decided what I wanted to do. I think it's just his way of letting me know that he'll support me whatever."

Melissa shook her head. "Dorks. The pair of you." She regarded him for a second, then asked gently, "So, what's holding you back? I know you have the move coming up."

"Yeah, that's pretty much done, apart from the actual moving, and the new place is going to be great, it's just—" He glanced up at Melissa through his lashes. "Don't laugh, okay." Melissa shook her head and made a serious face even though she was biting into her muffin. Stiles sighed. "Well—I stopped taking my suppressants a while ago so my heat should be in a couple of months and I just thought—I don't know. I know getting pregnant so soon might be a bad idea but—"

Melissa's eyes went comically wide. She swallowed hard, and it looked painful, but her face was ecstatic when she whispered, "A baby! Oh God, that would be wonderful! But yes, I can see why you might be apprehensive about it but oh my God, a baby!"

Stiles laughed. "Well, I don't want to get my hopes up. But I don't want to start back at school only to have to quit again if I get knocked up."

Melissa reached out and took hold of his wrists with both hands. "Intelligent, kind and really very practical. I think this is a good, sensible choice. One that you should talk over with your  _ mate _ ." She pointedly raised an eyebrow at him. Stiles smiled and nodded and acted suitably cowed.

Melissa sat back in her chair and pulled her coffee towards her. "Well, it sounds like you have everything pretty much under control, so what was the big emergency? I get the impression I'm kinda redundant as far as help goes?"

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. "This might sound a bit—ridiculous but—" He shifted in his seat and took a breath. "Derek spoke to his mom finally."

Melissa nodded. "Well, that's good. Took him long enough but still—"

"They're coming."

"Who's coming?"

Stiles sighed. "Derek's parents. They're coming. To visit. After we move."

Melissa's mouth fell open as Stiles was talking, then she swallowed, and said, "You mean his mom is coming?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. No, they're  _ both _ coming. Derek's not happy about it—"

"I can imagine."

"But he really does want to see his mom."

Melissa shrugged. "I guess he does. But still, not sure where I come into this, Kiddo."

Stiles blushed and stuttered out, "I need you to—to teach me—how to do it—to be a proper wolf—a proper mate—I just don't—"

Melissa looked at him wide eyed and then reached out a hand to stop him. "Whoa, whoa! Where is this coming from?"

Stiles swallowed and shook his head. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to—I was raised by humans. The only stuff I've learnt about werewolves is what I've read on Wikipedia, for Christ's sake. And I know you think I should just ask Derek but really, he doesn't get it. There's stuff, simple stuff, that he just takes for granted that I should know but I don't. But it doesn't occur to him to tell me." Stiles sighed. "I know Derek doesn't care if I screw up but I do. I don't want to embarrass him, Melissa. Not in front of his family. I know his dad is a hard ass and I really don't want to do anything to make things worse between them."

He took a deep breath and slumped back in his chair. "I feel like I'm the idiot that's gonna try to eat the fish course with the salad fork, and start an international incident, or something."

Melissa snorted. "So you want me to be the Henry to your Elisa? Is that what you're saying?"

Stiles smiled wide, looking up at her through his lashes. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. But maybe without all the singing and stuff."

"Oh, but that would be the best bit!" Melissa's face lit up with excitement and Stiles couldn't help but laugh, and finally relax. "Okay, then Kiddo, where do you want to start?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't know. I guess—what do I call him?" Melissa looked at him quizzically, so he clarified, "Derek's dad. Do I call him 'dad' or 'Gerald' or 'Alpha'? 'Cause he's not my Alpha, but then is he Derek's Alpha? 'Cause Derek is an Alpha but then does his dad being an Alpha mean he's even more Alpha than Derek?"

Melissa winced and held up both hands to stop the torrent. When Stiles clamped his lips shut, she let out a long breath. "Wow! Yeah, we definitely have some work to do. But for now – Maybe just stick to Mr Hale until he tells you otherwise."

  
  


Eight days before the movers arrive, Derek muttered a snarky comment about Stiles being a grumpy bitch under his breath. Stiles punched him so hard in the chest, it left a bruise that lasted a week.

  
  


Five days before the movers arrive, Derek came home to find Stiles sobbing in the bathroom. It took him nearly an hour to persuade him to open the door. Derek picked up his mate and carried him to bed, cradling him until he fell asleep and thinking that moving house shouldn't be this stressful.

  
  


Three days before the movers arrive, Derek didn't so much wake up, as get torn from unconsciousness by his wolf, his heart pounding in his chest, covered in sweat. The clock said 4am, but the bed was empty. Derek's wolf drove him down the hallway towards the living area. Stiles was standing naked in the middle of the room, wide eyed, staring at nothing. He span around when he sensed Derek, and started to shift, his eyes glowing, teeth lengthening. At first, Derek wasn't sure what the hell was driving them both until he registered what he was smelling.

"You're—?"

Stiles just growled and started to hunch down onto the ground.

Derek cursed under his breath, the sight of the glistening slick on Stiles’ thighs making his claws lengthen. Stiles was almost fully shifted, green eyes burning from across the room. The heady scent coming off him was overwhelming now that Derek was shifting too. Every thought that wasn't ' _ Stiles _ ' evaporated.

Derek lowered his body, bracing himself for what was coming next. Fucking his mate was one thing. Actually mating an Omega in heat…well…there was a first time for everything.

  
  


Two hours before the movers arrive, Derek groaned, his head tipped back against the seat of the couch. He'd managed to lay down a bath towel this time, ignoring the keen in Stiles’ voice as he cursed Derek's practicality. Now the sweat was pouring off him, Derek felt relieved he'd taken the extra seconds. It would save time later trying to explain why the couch was soaked.

He had his arms stretched out to the sides along the length of the seat, hands grasping on to the cushions for dear life, as his mate crouched over his lap, bouncing furiously on his horribly hard cock. Stiles had his arms wrapped around Derek's neck, his face buried there too, panting harsh breaths and sounds that weren't really pleasure against his skin.

After three days, they were both exhausted.

Stiles was finding the whole experience totally overwhelming. He'd not been at the mercy of his wolf like this since his first heat. Since then he'd been on suppressants, so it was a shock when he realized he couldn't control his shift or his need to have Derek endlessly fuck him.

Derek thought he'd had an idea what to expect but it was still a surprise just how strongly his wolf was reacting. The instinct to breed had taken over completely. He'd anticipated wanting Stiles, wanting to ease his discomfort, and being plain turned on, but actually it was more an urgency, a feeling that somehow Stiles was incomplete and that it was Derek's responsibility to remedy that. That the only way they could be whole, be fixed, was by filling his mate with pups, so he could see him swell and feel them wriggle inside him. It wasn't quite the sexy experience he'd been led to believe it was going to be.

Stiles started to move faster, more urgently, his breaths becoming 'Ah's’, gradually getting louder, more intense. Derek wrapped his arms tight around his mate, one hand on his neck, the other circling his hips, taking some of his weight and guiding Stiles up and down his shaft.

"Come on, baby. You can do it. One more time. That's it."

Then Stiles was arching up, spattering a pitiful amount of come between them, his head lolling back, going lax and boneless as he blacked out. The sensation of Stiles tightening around him, brought Derek to the brink. He squeezed Stiles’ unconscious body tight, plunging him down three, four times before his knot caught and he growled as he came, his forehead pressing against Stiles’ sweaty chest.

When Stiles came to, Derek was idly running his fingers through his hair where he was laid out comfortably on Derek's chest. Derek had draped a blanket over them and was reading.

The first time Stiles had passed out when he came, during the second day, Derek had panicked, thinking Stiles had suffered an aneurism or something. After a frantic call to the medical helpline, and the barely stifled laughter coming from the operator, it became apparent that this was totally normal, and he should just take advantage of the rest period. So he made sure he was prepared for some alone time while Stiles slept.

Stiles shifted, pulling at Derek's knot, making his mate hiss, half in pain, half from the extra hard pulse his balls gave at the stimulation. He wiped at the drool on his mouth and sat up, looking into Derek's face. Stiles looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his skin dry and blotchy, lips swollen and split. And all Derek could think was how beautiful he was despite it all, and how he wanted to kiss him and never stop.

Stiles coughed, making Derek flinch again, and croaked out, "I fucking hate this."

Derek kissed him as gently as he could and then offered him his water bottle. "I know. Won't be much longer now."

Stiles tipped his head back and drank. Derek watched a drop escape his lips, running down the side of his chin, down his jugular, ending up on Derek's tongue as he licked up to meet it. Stiles squirmed away, laughing, trying not to spit water everywhere. He sat quietly, his eyes closed, lids tightening rhythmically, synced with Derek pulsing inside him. He screwed the cap back on the bottle before asking quietly, "Do you? Do you hate it?"

Derek watched Stiles for a moment, the way he was almost turning away from him, glancing up shyly through his lashes. Derek shrugged. "Yes. And no. I hate that you're—uncomfortable. I hate that you're going through this for me. I hate that my dick feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to it. I hate that it's happened now, with all this going on." He gestured around the room. There were stacks of brown boxes everywhere, bits of bubble wrap and newsprint littering the floor. The place fairly echoed now that all of their belongings had been packed.

Stiles looked down, nodding, but Derek took his face in both hands and raised it up so he could look in his eyes. "But I don't hate that I'm here with you. That I get to share this with you. That there's a chance that we might have a family at the end of this. That, that I don't hate at all."

Stiles smiled, his face tired but genuinely happy. He leaned down to rest his forehead gently against Derek's. "Do you think it happened yet?" Derek opened his mouth to ask but Stiles took his hand and splayed it out over his soft, sticky belly. "Do you think we made a family?"

Derek smoothed his fingers across the pale freckled skin, skimming the downy line of hair that reached up towards Stiles’ bellybutton, and imagined it distended, his mate full, being able to feel his pups under the surface. He smiled. "Maybe. It's pretty common for it to happen on the first cycle. And then with your heat coming early—"

He didn't registered that he'd trailed off, mesmerized by his hands rubbing over his mate's abdomen, until Stiles laughed. The movement made them realize that Derek's knot was softening. They looked at each other, sighing, resigned to a quick shower and quicker breakfast before the movers arrived. Then getting the hell out of there before Derek needed to be back inside Stiles again.

Suddenly, Stiles flung his arms around Derek's neck, clinging to him, and whispered into his skin, "I can't wait. I can't wait to put our baby in your arms."

Derek held him tight and kissed the bite mark he'd given Stiles that first night. "Me too, Stiles. Me too."


	8. Chapter 8

Derek hated to admit it but he did jump in his skin when Aaron knocked on the office door. The door was open, so really Derek should have heard him coming, but he was concentrating on running through his notes on classroom management, and the quiet cool of the coaches’ office and the gentle roar of recess wafting in through the window, somehow relaxed him so he'd become too absorbed in studying to really pay attention to his surroundings.

He swiveled around smoothly in his chair, expecting to see the boy smirking. Except Aaron looked pale and unsettled, fiddling with the shoulder strap of his backpack. Derek frowned and felt the urge to reach out and hold the kid. "Christ, Aaron. What's happened?"

Aaron seemed reluctant to step forward, and his lips pressed together in a thin line. Derek beckoned him in and got up to close the door behind him, as Aaron sat awkwardly in the chair opposite Derek's place,

Derek sat back down and waited, watching the boy who was looking everywhere but at him. Derek was getting ready to try to nudge Aaron into speaking when the kid finally let go of his trepidation and spoke. "Isaac isn't in school today." His voice was unusually timid.

Derek frowned and folded his arms across his chest. His worry was slowly being replaced with curiosity. After their 'talk' he'd increasingly seen Isaac and Aaron together in less combative circumstances that the first time they had met. They worked better together on the field and seemed to be pretty happy when he saw them talking at Isaac's locker or hanging out on the bleachers. Isaac had even blushed when he'd caught Derek looking at them a couple of times, so Derek had been hopeful that things were going well.

Derek nodded. "I know. His mom called in, I think. Coach said he'd come down with something so he'll missing practice for the next couple of weeks."

Aaron looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. He looked at Derek and shook his head. "I don't—" His skin flushed red around his eyes and he couldn't seem to get the words out for fear of crying.

Derek leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped together between them. "Aaron. Look at me. Just tell me what's happened, okay?"

Aaron nodded and settled himself, before continuing more surely. "My aunt works at the hospital, at the General. She's a resident. She called me during my free period. She was asking me about Isaac, 'cause I—I talk about him, y'know? Anyway, she was asking about his home life, and did I ever notice anything unusual. Bruises, that kind of thing."

Derek brought his hand up and rubbed at the scruff on his chin. He knew the drill. He'd been on both sides of it at one time or another. He let out a long sigh and stated more than asked, "Isaac's in the hospital?"

Aaron nodded and his chin quivered just a little. Derek thought he was actually holding it together pretty well considering. "Yeah. His mom's saying he fell down the stairs but my aunt thinks she's lying. And his stepdad is such a cu—I mean—he really hates him. Isaac never says anything but he does have bruises that I know he didn't get from practice and sometimes he just seems so tired, y'know?"

Derek almost wanted to laugh out loud, because yes, he did know. Intimately.

He reached over and patted Aaron on the knee, before turning to his desk and gathering his papers together. "First thing I want you to do is not worry. I'm going to go over there now and find out what's going on. Second thing, go to Mrs—what's her name? The school councilor?"

"Mrs Caffery."

"Yes. Go to Mrs Caffery's office. Tell her what you've told me, and tell her that I want you to try to remember specific days that you think Isaac has come to school with bruises or acting strange, anything like that, okay?" Aaron nodded, and Derek smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring, as he stuffed the last of his belongings into his briefcase. "He'll be okay. He might not be just now but you did the right thing telling me. Thank you for that."

Aaron smiled back just a little and said quietly, "He says you're the only one that's been able to make him feel safe since his dad died. I figured he'd want you to know. I really hope he's not going to be mad at me."

Derek fought hard to bite back the urge to say something about the rewards of make up sex, given that a) he was a teacher so inappropriate didn't even quite cover it, b) they were minors and shouldn't be even having sex, and c) he wasn't even 100% sure they were even dating yet. Thankfully, he was saved by the buzzer and the clamor of the halls filling up again. Instead, he clapped Aaron on the shoulder and guided him gently towards the door.

 

Derek was grateful for small mercies when he got to the hospital. If it had been anywhere but the General, he would have felt a lot less confident walking through the doors. But as it was, he knew his way around pretty well and took the elevator to the fourth floor, willing the numbers to go faster as they climbed.

Melissa was just sinking her teeth into a fat green apple when Derek stuck his head through her open door. She looked up at him when he leaned in and knocked on the door frame, waving him in as she chewed around her smile and indicated to the chair she was pulling her feet down from. He kissed her quickly on the cheek before he plonked his ass heavily onto the chair.

Melissa swallowed. "Hey, stranger. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Derek sighed heavily, making Melissa's eyes open wide in expectation, before he said blankly, "Isaac Lahey."

Melissa swallowed again and put the apple and papers she had been holding on the desk. Her voice was instantly deeper, more professional, and she looked genuinely concerned. "He one of yours?"

Derek nodded. "He's on the team. His friend came to see me. Apparently, his aunt is a doctor here and rang him to get some background. I gather you guys aren't buying the whole ‘fell down the stairs’ story?"

Melissa huffed out a bitter laugh. "Do we ever?"

Derek smiled sadly when he said low, "Yeah. Sometimes."

Melissa tried to smile back but couldn't quite manage it. Instead, she briefly squeezed his hand before turning to her desk. She knew better than anyone what he had been through at the hands of his father. He'd seen therapists but it had been talking it through with Melissa that had done him the most good. The others had tried so hard not to bring his status into it but inevitable him being an Alpha always came up. Melissa had just talked to him like the scared, confused boy he had been.

She shuffled some papers on her desk and pulled out a blue file. "I obviously can't talk about it but we are looking into it."

Derek nodded. "Might be worth talking to the school's councilor. I asked Isaac's friend to get a time-line of incidents together with her, plus Isaac may have spoken to her, I'm not sure."

He rattled off the school's number and the relevant names, while Melissa wrote everything down. Her pen had some weird bouncing pink pompom on the end of it, which seemed strangely at odds with the topic on discussion. Derek watched it as it bobbed in time with her movements.

Melissa sighed and slumped back in her chair, throwing the pen down on the desk with some force. "I hate these ones. It's bad enough that it happens to anyone, but these—" She rubbed both hands over her face, and Derek looked puzzled. Melissa shook her head at him. "It's because he's a wolf, and the parents aren't. There's still that attitude that he could defend himself if he wanted to, so maybe it was just an accident, or maybe they were defending themselves."

Derek sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, muttering under his breath.

Melissa sighed. "I know, I know. Things are getting better but still—" She smiled at him and slapped his leg. "Enough of that. This is my problem to sort out. Why don't you go say 'Hi'? I think he's in—" She quickly looked at the file. "Yup. Room 218."

Derek stood, then bent down to wrap his arms around her, swamping her slight form with his body. He kissed her cheek, murmured thanks into her shoulder, and was out the door.

Derek involuntarily took a sharp breath when he saw Isaac sitting in the hospital bed. He wasn't sure what he had expected. Isaac's eyes were wide and fearful when he saw him. He tried to pull himself more upright but winced, not actually changing position, and managed to mumble out, "It looks worse than it is," through the swelling but it was only half intelligible.

Derek's first thought was that he looked—colorful. Isaac's skin was a riot of red, purple, blue, black and green. One side of his face was horribly swollen, his eye just a slit and his jaw puffy and black. His upper lip was huge and split, echoing the cuts littered over his visible skin. The forearm that wasn't in a cast was striped with red welts as well as the bruising, and several of his fingers were splinted together. He was wearing a hospital gown and Derek could see the shapeless thing was bulging from the dressings under it in several places.

Derek walked over and stood at the end of the bed. "No, kid. I really think it is."

Isaac looked away, his chest hitching once. Derek cleared his throat. "So, I'm guessing—baseball bat?"

Isaac looked at him with terror on his face. He'd clearly been told to keep his mouth shut but Derek's wolf didn't give a shit about that. If he needed to use his influence as an Alpha to get to the bottom of this, he would, and didn't give a shit what anyone would think of it. Isaac didn't try to speak, just kept staring until Derek sighed and raised his eyebrows.

Isaac's head shook, almost imperceptibly, and his voice was almost too quiet to hear when he finally managed to get his savaged mouth to form the words. "Pool cue."

Derek nodded. "Nice. The asshole give you a reason, or was this just for kicks?"

Isaac's eyes teared up. "Alpha, please—"

Derek was at his side in two sure steps. He lowered himself down, gingerly placing his palm on the back of Isaac's neck, not knowing if it would hurt him, and gently pressed his forehead to Isaac's temple, saying quietly, "This shouldn't need saying, but I'm going to say it anyway. Whatever he told you, you didn't deserve this. You're not responsible for this. It's all him Isaac. This is his fault."

They stayed there like that, Isaac's chest hitching as he struggled to get his emotions under control, with Derek telling him quietly how brave he was and how he knew how hard it was, and how he wouldn't let anything else happen to him, until there was movement in the doorway, and Derek looked over.

There was a small, tired looking woman stood there wearing a blue-grey shift dress, watching them quietly. She smiled when Derek turned to look at her but the gesture didn't quite meet her eyes. She looked exhausted.

Derek stood as she walked to them, but kept his hand on Isaac's neck. Isaac's body jolted when he saw her, and he coughed out, "Mom—"

The woman held up her hand, and shushed him. "It's okay." She craned her neck looking up at Derek. "You must be Coach Hale."

Derek extended his hand. "Derek is fine." She took his hand and shook it. She also tilted her head to the left, exposing her neck. The old school gesture took Derek a little by surprise. He suddenly felt self-conscious, and spluttered out, "Oh, no, Mrs Lahey! That's really not necessary."

The woman blushed and looked a little flustered herself. "I—I'm sorry. It's just—it's been a while." She smiled and seemed relieved when Derek smiled back, adding, "And it's Mrs O'Donnell. Miriam."

Derek nodded. They stood looking at each other for a second before Derek realized that she was expecting him to leave. His wolf wanted to growl just at the thought of taking his hand off Isaac, so he pointedly sat himself in the visitors seat and kept his hand right where it was. He cleared his throat when she finally stopped glaring at him and decided to move to the seat on the opposite side of the bed. "So, Miriam—"

"Mr Hale—Derek," Miriam interrupted, putting her palms flat on the bed, smoothing out the sheet, "I want to thank you for coming to visit Isaac but he does need his rest. The doctor has said he's fine to return home tomorrow, and should be back in school next—"

"No." Derek's voice wasn't a growl but it was a close thing.

Miriam took in a sharp breath. "I'm—I'm sorry?"

Derek sighed. "I said. No."

"Derek, I don't think—"

"Oh, thinking isn't the problem here. Seeing. Seeing is definitely your problem." Miriam opened her mouth to speak her eyes glittering with anger and fear, but Derek leaned forward and pointed at Isaac. "Look at your son, Miriam. Really look. Look at the blood, and the bruises, and the broken bones. Your home is not a safe place for him to be."

Miriam didn't look. Instead, she closed her eyes tight and started to protest. "I really don't think this is any of your—"

Derek laughed. He didn't mean to but it just barked out of his chest. "Oh, you're right! It's not any of my business. It's  _ your _ business. Your responsibility. But you're not doing anything about it are you?" He grabbed her wrist across the bed, and she opened her eyes in shock. "I'm sorry, Miriam but if you think this is the worst that it can get, you're wrong. So, so wrong."

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Derek slowly released her hand and sat back, not breaking eye contact with her, and saying gently, "He'll kill him, Miriam. Next time, he could kill him."

She stared at him and for a moment, Derek thought that she was going to deny it again, but Isaac whispered, "Mom?" and it seemed to snap her out of it.

Miriam slowly looked over at him, running her eyes over his battered skin, the cast, and the lesions, and seemed to fall apart right there in front of them. She just crumbled, all the fight going out of her. She lay her head down on the bed next to Isaac like a child, and sobbed and sobbed, as Isaac awkwardly stroked her hair with his splinted fingers.

Derek finally made it home about 6.30pm, and was immediately assaulted by the most delicious aroma of tomato, garlic and herbs.

"You're late!" Stiles called from the kitchen. "I was about to start without you." Derek dumped his briefcase and gym bag in the hall next to some boxes that still needed unpacking, and traipsed slowly down the hall to find his mate.

Stiles was barefoot, in light jeans and a black teeshirt that rode up to expose the bare flesh on his hip, as he pulled wide flat bowls from the cupboard. Most of the house was still a mess but the kitchen was painted, stocked and the cupboards full by the end of their first week there. Stiles had insisted on it.

Derek came up behind him, and pulled his back tight against his chest, making Stiles squeak in surprise, nearly dropping the dish-ware. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and breathed him in, sighing audibly with each breath.

Stiles went still. "What's wrong? Is something wrong?" He tried to twist in Derek's grip but it was too strong. Stiles waited until Derek's hold relaxed, and turned in the cage of his arms, pushing him slightly back so he look at him, running his fingers over Derek's brow. "Jesus, Derek. You look like shit."

He frowned at Derek, frowning harder still when Derek tried to force a smile, then pulled him in and held him tight against his body until Derek's stomach growled.

Derek huffed out a laugh and pushed Stiles away, even though Stiles whined. Derek shook his head and gestured to the waiting plates, as he went to sit at the small table in the corner of the room. It was already laid with cutlery and condiments, and a plate stacked with garlic bread rounds. They had a dining room and a really nice table to go in it, but they hadn't used it yet. With just the two of them, it felt more homely to eat in the warmth of the kitchen.

"Derek. You're freaking me out. Please say something." Stiles was stood where Derek had left him, leaned up against the counter, both hands reaching back at his waist, gripping the edge.

Derek sighed. "Okay, but food, Omega. Please." Stiles scowled but turned, and set to arranging the plates to serve up the spaghetti and sauce, while Derek relayed the events of the afternoon.

He'd got through all the pertinent points by the time Stiles placed his pasta in front of him. Stiles’ face was horrified as he sat across from him. "God, no, they can't really send him home, can they?"

Derek shrugged and mopped up some sauce with a piece of bread. "I don't know. Maybe. I took Miriam for a coffee in the canteen, tried to talk sense into her about leaving her husband—"

"But she won't?"

Derek shrugged. "She says she can't. She feels like the bastard is trying to do the right thing but just getting, and I quote, 'a little carried away' unquote." Derek shook his head. "I think she does love Isaac, but she loves her husband too."

Stiles sat quietly, stabbing at his plate with his fork for a moment before scraping his chair back and going to the sink. They had talked about the circumstances of Derek leaving home. Derek hadn't been quite prepared to dump all the gory details on his new mate but Stiles was aware of some of it, and that what he had been told only constituted the tip of the iceberg. So Derek knew that Stiles’ reaction had more to do with than just Isaac's predicament.

Stiles filled a glass of water and gulped down the whole thing with his back to Derek, glaring out the window into the orange evening light flooding the backyard. He set the empty glass deliberately in the sink, and asked, "Could Isaac leave?"

Derek set his fork down and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his hand over his stubble, wondering how in the hell he was going to start to explain what he had agreed with Miriam.

Stiles turned around to face Derek, stony determination on his face. "Well? Could he?"

Derek cleared his throat. "It's a possibility. I did talk to Miriam about him maybe moving out with her blessing."

Stiles coughed, crossing his arms across his chest, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back. His voice was ferocious when he spoke, almost eliciting a laugh from Derek, given the poor show he was giving of covering up his insecurity. "Well, unless you agreed to him coming to stay with us, I don't want to hear about it."

Omega or not, there was a fierceness to Stiles that hadn't made sense to Derek until he met his wolf, and Derek could feel the wolf in Stiles’ words at that moment.

Derek smiled and stood up. He walked over slowly, saying, "Well, as it just so happens—"

Stiles’ mouth fell open. "Oh my God, you didn't –"

Derek put his arms around him and tried to gather him to his chest. "Only on the condition that it was okay with you. And just until Isaac is well enough to decide what he wants to do next."

Stiles shoved at Derek, and half-heartedly slapped his chest. "You manipulative—You wanted me to ask, didn't you?!"

Derek huffed out a laugh and kissed him on the temple. "You overestimate me." He ran his lips down to the corner of Stiles’ mouth and breathed out, "And I admit, I under estimate you. How in the hell did I get so lucky?"

Stiles snaked his arms around Derek's neck and pulled their bodies flush together, kissing his mate until they were both short of breath. He buried his face in Derek's neck and murmured, "I wouldn't count your chickens just yet, Alpha."

Derek squeezed him tight. There had been a week or so after Stiles’ heat had passed and it became clear that pups weren't going to be happening that year, that Stiles started talking about being cursed, and unlucky. It took a lot of persuasion to bring him around to the idea that Derek could be disappointed in not being pregnant, without being disappointed in Stiles. It took Stiles a while to believe it and longer to come out of his depression, but it was hard for Derek to hear him talk that way without worrying that the malaise was returning.

 Stiles clearly felt his anxiety, and tried to reassure Derek by kissing his neck and pulling away, saying chirpily, "Okay then. Well, now you've got your sneaky way, why don't we eat before the pasta is ruined, and you tell me all about our house guest?"

 

The following afternoon, Derek was almost at the front door, before it was flung open and a rather breathless Stiles started jabbering, "I'm so sorry I was upstairs just finishing some stuff, and I didn't hear the car—" He trailed off when he saw what Derek had in his hands.

Or rather in the one hand that wasn't carrying an overnight bag. His other hand was wrapped around Isaac's waist. Isaac's arm was slung over Derek's shoulder, the cast rasping roughly at his neck, as they walked/limped slowly to the door.

Isaac still looked like something out of a horror movie and Stiles couldn't tear his eyes away for a second. He did get with the program eventually and grabbed the bag from Derek as they crossed the threshold. He smiled weakly at Isaac, blurting out, "Your room is all ready. Well, it's basic, not fancy. You can arrange it how you want when you're feel a bit better, but it should be okay for now," before he scuttled off up the stairs with Isaac's luggage.

Derek smirked. "So, that's my mate, Stiles, if you haven't figured that out."

Isaac blinked up after Stiles in wonder, as they took the first step. "He's sooo pretty." His voice was swimmy and drawling, and Derek couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay, Buddy. No more painkillers for you until  _ much _ later." Isaac whined, but kept ascending the stairs under Derek's gentle urging.

They made it to the bedroom without too much loss of dignity on anyone's part, and got Isaac into bed with only a small loss on his. But then they figured he was so high, he wouldn't remember flashing the neighbors when he woke up.

Derek sat with him, talking low and stroking his bangs out of his eyes until he fell asleep. When he finally heard Isaac's breathing slow down and even out, he glanced up, to find Stiles leaning in the doorway, watching them with a soft look on his face. Derek went to him, pulling him into his arms.

Stiles laid his head on his Alpha's chest and asked, "Are you going to make a habit of this?" Derek pulled Stiles’ head back gently by his hair so he could see his face. Stiles smiled at the perplexed look Derek was wearing, and chuckled. "I mean, bringing your work home with you. Is that going to be a thing?"

Derek huffed out a laugh and kissed him. "No. No, I don't think so."

But his eyes did flit across the hall to the closed door, knowing that behind it was a bright yellow room, painted with dancing animals, scattered with stuffed toys and pieces of an unfinished crib, that somehow felt less like a black hole that might suffocate them now there was another sleeping boy in the house, and he really didn't want to promise anything.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek was mesmerized to the point that he could barely catch his breath. He watched enraptured as Stiles trembled above him in the dawn light creeping through the open blinds; every inch of golden skin on his smooth chest glistening with sweat like he had been encrusted with diamonds. Stiles was fighting to stay silent as he lowered and raised his body, sliding smoothly on Derek's cock; the strain of the movement evident in the way his muscles quivered, and the strain of keeping quiet evident in the pained look on his face and pitiful whimpers that he couldn't help but let out with each breathy exhale.

Derek had never given much thought to the fact that Stiles was so vocal in bed, other than that his wolf really,  _ really _ approved. Sure, in the old apartment it had disturbed some of the neighbors, but in the new place they just had to remember to keep the windows closed and Stiles could yell and howl to his wolf's content. But now, with their new house-guest slowly recovering from his injuries just down the hall, Stiles had to learn to be quiet.

Except, he just couldn't quite manage it.

The first couple of times, even though he'd sworn it wouldn't be a problem, Stiles had tipped his head back, and Derek had just enough time to clamp his hand down over Stiles’ mouth before he started to full out scream as he came. Isaac was still dosed up on pain meds at that point so he'd thankfully slept through it

After that, Derek had been careful to put something loud on the flat-screen in their bedroom, but even then he wasn't sure if it drowned out the noise completely. Stiles had apologized and promised to try harder, which just made Derek feel horribly guilty.

This morning, though, guilt was far, far away from Derek's mind.

There were few times when he ever thought it appropriate to use his Alpha influence to control another wolf. Even though it was part of his DNA, and still acceptable in many circles to exert that kind of control, Derek felt it was—tacky. Just because he could use his wolf's voice to physically control a Beta or Omega's actions, didn't mean that he should. It wasn't a magic trick, it was biological, but it still felt somehow shaming to do that to another person.

Except when it's your own Omega and you command them to keep absolutely quiet just as you breach their wet entrance and slide into them. Apparently. Derek wasn't sure whether it was the stretch of his cock, or the way he lowered his voice until it vibrated in his chest cavity, which knocked the air out of Stiles. But he liked it.

Stiles had looked up at him, wide-eyed and incredulous, but pressed his lips together, lips curling in a challenging smile, and locked his ankles behind Derek's back as he started to move.

Stiles wasn't smiling now though. He rode Derek perfectly, rising just enough that the head of Derek's cock tugged at Stiles’ rim, before he helped gravity take him back down, bottoming out with a slap of skin, and grunt from the back of his throat. Stiles’ mouth was slack and wet, his skin fairly electric with the way it twitched where Derek touched him, his arms hanging loose, letting his palms skittered over Derek's hips.

Derek reached up and scraped his thumbnail over Stiles’ nipple and Stiles sobbed. As he looked down at Derek, a fat tear rolled down one cheek, and he almost soundlessly mouthed, "I can't, Alpha. I can't!"

Derek surged up, cupping Stiles face and kissing him hard. He braced his arm across Stiles waist, holding him tight and flipped them so he was back on top of his mate. He pulled Stiles’ legs up so they were snug over his hips.

"God, Stiles, you're so fucking beautiful, tried so hard for me. You did good, Omega. It's okay. You can let it go now."

He spoke the last words as he cupped one hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, and clamped the other over his mouth. Stiles’ eyes rolled back in his head as Derek started thrusting into him. His back arched, and it was all Derek could do to hold on to Stiles, slippery with sweat and tears, as he thrashed around, his screams muffled just enough in Derek's palm, his in-breaths rasping and labored where his nose brushed against the side of Derek's hand.

Derek growled at the deep warmth growing in the pit of his belly and bit down hard on the meat of Stiles’ chest, making Stiles buck and try to howl, his fingers scrabbling at Derek's back and neck. Since Stiles’ heat, Derek kept finding himself desperate to put his teeth in Stiles. He thought maybe it was a reaction to Stiles not falling pregnant, that his wolf felt the need to claim him over and over to make a point. Whatever it was, he was glad of Stiles’ ability to heal quickly. These weren't love bites, no matter how much Stiles liked them. Derek felt warm liquid well in his mouth, the coppery taste on his tongue urged him to fuck his mate harder.

Stiles was writhing underneath him, frantic and practically pleading until he suddenly went still. Derek didn't notice for a fraction of a second and kept fucking him. When he realized that Stiles had gone ridged in his arms, he looked down in horror. When their eyes met, Stiles came. And came and came, hot and slick between them, his ass clamping down viciously as he did so on Derek's length, forcing the light swelling at the base of the Alpha's cock to suddenly become engorged. Derek head swam as his orgasm began, the two men rocking together silently but for Stiles’ muffled sobs.

After a while, Derek realized he was still covering Stiles’ mouth. He peeled his hand back, allowing Stiles to take in long, deep lungful’s of air. His mouth was ruined, the skin around his mouth as red as his lips, the bottom one split in the center. Derek kissed him gently – his mouth, his eyes, his throat, the mating scar on his shoulder – all the while murmuring how good he was, how perfect and beautiful and "Mine", while Stiles led there, boneless and panting, with his eyes closed. He looked debauched, with his hair in a sweaty mess half stuck to his face, and his breath hitching almost imperceptibly with every pulse of ejaculate from Derek's knot.

When Derek propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Stiles, to assess if he was really okay or not, Stiles opened one eye and slowly licked his lips.

"That was—you—y-you absolute bastard." Derek ducked his head and swallowed, thinking he was probably going to have to find some way to apologize until Stiles chuckled. "I—I can't believe you've been holding out on me all this time. We  _ have _ to do that again!"

Derek's huffed out laugh that was more relief than anything, and spent the rest of time before their alarm went off burying his face in Stiles’ neck while Stiles stroked his hair and listed every possible way in which Derek was a sex-god until Derek laughed so hard his knot hurt them both.

  
  


There was a shuffling noise in the hallway. Derek didn't bother looking up from his book until Isaac made it to the doorway and cleared his throat.

It had taken a few days before Isaac was able to get out of bed unaided, and even then he seemed reluctant to leave his room. Stiles sat with him, ate with him when Derek wasn't home, even hooked his Xbox up to the small TV at the end of Isaac's bed so they could play games together when Isaac was feeling up to it. Derek had even come home to find Stiles studying quietly on the rug next to Isaac's bed while he slept. They seemed to be getting along. Just as long as it was in the confines of the guest room.

Derek didn't spend as much time with him now. Partly it was in the hope that Isaac would come to him. The boy had seemed to accept Derek as his Alpha and proximity was important, so Derek was hoping his absence would lure him out. And given that Isaac was standing there, looking embarrassed and holding his breakfast plates awkwardly in one hand, it seemed to be working.

Stiles turned his attention from preparing lunch, and grinned wide at Isaac who just smiled coyly and held up the crockery. "I—I thought I should—and thank you for breakfast."

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked to meet him. "Come on. No need for that."

It was a losing battle, trying to get Isaac to stop saying thank you for the smallest things, and to stop apologizing for everything he did. At first, Derek thought that he was simply being very polite, he was in a strange Alpha's house, and so it seemed logical. Except, it quickly became clear that he'd been conditioned to express unreasonable levels of gratitude for every tiny thing, to the point it was making both Derek and Stiles feel a little uncomfortable. They were trying to get him out of the habit but it was going to take time.

Stiles took the plate and precariously balanced mug from him and gestured to the empty seat next to Derek at the kitchen table. Isaac eyed it warily until Derek reached out his foot and pushed it back in a clear invitation. Derek smiled at Isaac over the top of his glasses as the boy shuffled into the room and sat down.

"Do you need a hand with anything? I could help?" Isaac asked, but Stiles waved him off and kept mixing.

"Nah, you're all good. I'm nearly done. Thank you for asking though. At least  _ someone _ has manners."

Derek didn't look up at the pointed remark, just turned the page and tried to keep his Alpha's dignity and not whine. "I did the potatoes. And the salad."

Stiles smirked at Isaac who was hiding a smile behind his hand before declaring,  "Salad does not count. You emptied a bag into a bowl.  And yes, you did do the potatoes but only after I—persuaded you."

Derek did look up then, his eyebrows raised. He was gratified to see Stiles had the decency to blush and turn away. Thankfully, Isaac seemed more amused than embarrassed.

Derek cleared his throat. "You can help me with the grill in a bit, if you feel up to it?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll try not to set myself on fire."

Derek smiled, asking softly, "You call your mom yet?"

Melissa had brought Miriam by the day after Derek brought Isaac home. She brought some of his things, clothes, schoolbooks, his phone and laptop. She didn't stay long but seemed relieved when she left. Melissa had been by separately after that. She and Isaac had a long talk with the bedroom door shut. She'd come out grim faced and hadn’t argued when Derek handed her a whiskey. She wanted Isaac to press charges against his stepfather but it was too soon. He was tired and hurt and wanted to forget the whole thing, which was understandable. Melissa did impress on Derek that it was important for him to keep in regular contact with his mom, so in addition to her coming by to see Isaac once a week, he made sure that he called her once a day, even if it was just to say Hi.

Isaac shook his head. "No. Not yet."

"Okay then," Derek sat up and stretched, still holding the book in his hand. "Why don't you go give her a call now, and then we can get started on getting the grill fired up?"

As Isaac nodded and started to stand, the doorbell rang.

Derek looked to Stiles, who just held out his burger meat-covered hands and shrugged. Derek growled and stalked out of the kitchen, lightly touching Isaac's shoulder as he passed him. He didn't usually have Saturdays off, so he really didn't want to have to deal with anyone today.

When he yanked the door open, he was surprised to see a boy standing there, looking nervous as hell, clutching a pile of books and papers to his chest. "Aaron?"

Aaron smiled nervously. "H-hi Coach! Um—I hope you don't mind. I brought these. Notes and stuff from class—for Isaac." He shoved the books forward awkwardly with outstretched arms.

Derek looked down at them but didn't make a move to take them. Instead, he yelled over his shoulder, "Isaac! You have a visitor!"

Isaac's face popped out of the kitchen doorway. When Derek stepped back and he saw it was Aaron standing there, Isaac beamed and blushed, and started to shuffle towards him.

Aaron's smile quickly fell as Isaac got closer. His gait was still stiff but he was at least moving. The swelling on his face was almost completely gone but there were still lingering bruises and his eye was still badly bloodshot.

Derek put a hand on Aaron's shoulder and said quietly, "I know it's a shock, but he's okay," before he stepped back into the house to give them some privacy. Stiles met him in the hallway and they watched the two boys talking.

Stiles leaned into him and whispered, "Is that Aaron?" Derek nodded and hmmed. Stiles bumped him with his shoulder. "Isaac talks about him a lot. He should stay for lunch."

Derek hmmed again, which clearly wasn't the response Stiles was looking for. When Stiles poked him in the ribs with his finger unexpectedly, Derek tried to cover up his yelp by calling out, "Isaac. Why don't you ask Aaron to stay for lunch?"

Isaac turned around and glared, directing most of it at Stiles who was grinning madly. He cleared his throat, and looked back to Aaron, blushing and stammering out, "We—we're having burgers—Stiles made them—he's—he's a really good cook. I mean—"

Aaron swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to the street. "I—I guess so. If it's okay with my dad. I should—" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Derek's hand brushed lightly over Stiles’ back as he walked forward, saying, "I'll come with," like he did this kind of thing all the time.

As they walked down the short drive together, Aaron's dad opened the door of his BMW and got out to meet them, holding his hand out to Derek when they approached. "Coach, it's nice to meet you."

Derek nodded and shook his hand. "You too. Thanks for bringing Aaron by. Isaac's been going a little stir crazy the last couple of days. He could do with a friend right now."

Aaron's dad shook his head. "It's my pleasure. Thank you for taking the boy in. Aaron's been really worried about him."

Aaron blushed and glared at his father, letting out a petulant whine.

Derek huffed out a laugh. "Well, we were wondering if it would be okay for Aaron to join us for lunch? I can drop him home later, and Isaac could really use the company."

Aaron's father looked into his son's comically pleading face and laughed. "Yeah, that sounds fine. I don't think I'd hear the end of it if I said 'no’.” He held out his hand again for Derek to shake. "As long as he's home by ten."

Aaron didn't even wait for his father to drive away before rushing back up to the house. Derek at least waved him off and followed, catching up to him as Stiles was saying, "Why don't you show Aaron your room and I call you when lunch is ready."

He watched as the two boys smiled softly at each other as they started to climb the stairs, and added, "Make sure you keep your door open, Isaac."

The boy blushed and nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you." Then went right back to looking at Aaron like he was some sort of magical creature come to life.

Stiles huffed out a laugh and stood up on his toes to whisper in Derek's ear, "Come on, and close the kitchen door behind you. I wanna make out while the kids are occupied."

Derek snorted, but complied, kissing Stiles stupid until his mate was laughing and pushing him away.

When Stiles had finished making up the patties, and was sliding the tray into the fridge for them to chill, Derek caught him glancing over with a familiar look on his face. He sighed. "What?"

Stiles looked at him and shrugged, feigning ignorance.

Derek twisted around in his chair to face him. "What is it? Out with it."

Stiles shrugged again but this time said nonchalantly, "Oh, I was just thinking about what you said to Isaac earlier." Derek frowned, so Stiles clarified. "Have you called  _ your _ mom lately?"

Derek groaned and put his head in his hands. "Seriously?" When he felt Stiles’ fingers carding through his hair, he opened his legs, and wrapping his arms around his mate's waist, pulled him close. "I did call her."

Stiles’ hands stopped moving. "And?"

"They can't make it next week—so we settled on the Wednesday after."

Stiles’ fingers started scratching at Derek's scalp again. "Okay then, that's—okay then."

Derek laughed and tilted his head up to look at Stiles. "You can't regret this. It was your idea."

Stiles smushed Derek's face back into his belly and huffed indignantly. "Yeah, well. It's more a case of wanting to get it over with than an active desire to meet your parents." He kissed the top of Derek's head before pushing away, and heading for the fridge, saying cheerfully, "Still, it's just one dinner. How bad can it be?"

  
  


Derek had planned it carefully so it wouldn't go badly. But when he saw the truck roll up and park outside the house twenty minutes early, he realized that he was 100% sure that it couldn't go any other way.

Derek and Stiles agreed that it probably would be best if Isaac wasn't around for what was bound to be a tense evening, so when Derek came home from work on the day of the dinner, he brought Aaron with him.

It had become a regular event since Aaron's first visit. He'd catch a ride back with Derek after practice when his dad was working late, bringing Isaac assignments and class notes so he didn't fall too far behind with his schoolwork, then they'd study together, and eat together, until Aaron's dad came to collect him after he finished his shift at the hospital. This was the first time though that Isaac was heading home with them.

Isaac had been sending worried glances at Stiles all day as he fussed about the house and stressed over cooking times. He didn't say anything, just sat quietly and folded napkins, or peeled string beans, or whatever Stiles asked him to do.

They were stood at the curb, chatting to Aaron's dad through the open window of his car while the boys started to climb into the back seat, when Derek's parents arrived. As soon as Isaac saw Gerald unfold himself from the cabin of the truck, he went pale. Gerald was imposing to say the least, at least as tall as Derek, his heavy boots, and leather jacket only adding to the effect of his challenging glare focused on his son. Isaac stared opened mouthed at him for a second before grabbing Stiles and flinging his arms around his neck.

Stiles was shocked but brought his arms up and hugged the boy back tightly, looking up at Derek as he whispered, "It's okay. I'll be okay," although he didn't sound that convincing. Stiles and Isaac were friendly but physical contact really wasn't Isaac's thing, so Derek felt a little shaken by seeing him so affected.

Derek put his hand on the back of Isaac's neck and drew him away from his mate, saying firmly, "We will see you later." Isaac looked up at him, his eyes wet and breath hitching, but nodded. Derek pressed his cheek briefly to the boy's temple, then steered him into the car and slammed the door shut.

As the car pulled away, Derek took hold of Stiles’ hand, squeezing it tight, while Stiles waved Isaac goodbye with the other. Derek bent down and whispered, "Wish you were going with him?"

Stiles didn't take his eyes of the retreating vehicle. "Yup."

Derek huffed out a laugh, and taking a breath to steady himself, turned to face his family for the first time in eight years, pulling Stiles along behind him.

 

The evening ended up being punctuated by Gerald's judgmental statements and Stiles' increasing intolerance for them.

The first zinger was the first thing out of his mouth. No 'hello'. No 'how have you been'. Gerald didn't even bother looking at Stiles, just sneered as they approached, and drawled out, "Wasn't sure which one was yours for a minute there, son. You keeping a spare in case this one's not a breeder?"

Derek could feel Stiles tense up, as if he wasn't anxious enough already. Derek's wolf was snarling to get free but Derek managed a polite, "Dad," before turning to his mother who was making her way over to him with open arms. She was tall and dark just like Derek except for her beautiful eyes and long elegant body. Derek didn't let go of Stiles' hand but wrapped his free arm around her waist and hugged her tightly to him, murmuring into her shoulder, "You cut your hair."

She laughed pulling away far enough to cup her hands around his face and squish his cheeks together playfully. "Well, it's been a while, bunny. You look good, Derek. Really good."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and smiled. Then he gently pulled Stiles forward, relinquishing the grip on Stiles' hand to take him by the shoulders, and pull him against his chest. "This is Stiles."

Stiles’ breath shuddered from the adrenaline in his system, but held out his hand and tilted his head, slightly exposing his neck like Melissa had told him. "It's really nice to meet you, Ma'am."

Derek's mom laughed and took Stiles’ hand in both of hers. "Very nice to meet you too Stiles. Ma'am's a bit much though don't you think? You can call me Talia—or Mom—if you want."  Her eyes were bright and genuine, flicking back and forth between the two men in front of her, obviously as excited to meet Stiles, as she was to see her son again.

It would have been a lovely moment for them all if Gerald hadn't snorted behind her and said, "Jesus Christ, Tally. Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you? Let's get off the street before you start trying to bring any other random strangers into the pack."

Talia blushed, but when Stiles visibly stiffened at the dismissal, she smiled and hooked her arm in his, as Derek walked ahead and led them up to the house, his fists clenched at his side, his wolf frantically trying to get him to turn the other Alpha away.

Once they were inside, it didn't get much better. Talia stuck close to Stiles, seeming to sense his nervousness. If Gerald felt it too, he didn't acknowledge it. In fact, he didn't acknowledge Stiles at all. Didn't look at him or react when he spoke. It was like the Omega wasn’t even in the room.

Derek was relieved, in a way, that his father wasn't directing himself to Stiles. It was hard enough for him or his wolf to accept that the man was in his house at all, so the fact that he was staying away from his mate felt like a good thing.

He could see Stiles was having a hard time keeping his instincts under control and realized too late that this was probably the first time Stiles had been around this many wolves in one place other than himself and Isaac, adding to the strain of having them in his home.

Talia was doing her best to counteract any thoughtlessness on her husband's part.

Gerald made some crude remark about Derek's status when Derek helped Stiles serve drinks on the deck, but Talia complimented Stiles on how well they seemed to have settled in to the new house and how well the garden was coming along.

Gerald scoffed at Derek becoming a teacher, bringing up his choice of degree and lack of ambition, so Talia started rambling loudly about Derek's baseball career, asking Stiles if he'd heard such-and-such childhood story and telling it enthusiastically regardless of the answer.

Gerald nearly spat his drink all over the table when Stiles said he was starting college in a month to begin his nursing training. Derek tried not to roll his eyes, when his father fixed him with a glare and demanded, "And you're allowing this?" Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Talia got there first, saying softly but pointedly, "Gerald. Finish your drink, dear."

He turned his furious stare onto her but she seemed unaffected, simply pushing back her chair and laying a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, saying breezily, "Why don't I help you in the kitchen, let these two catch up. Derek, why don't you ask your father about how the business is going?"

Derek smiled at her, grabbing her hand and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles as she passed. He was surprised at how different she seemed since the last time he saw her, but not at that last clever remark.

He did ask about the business and the resulting answer managed to sustain them until midway through the main course. Derek had forgotten quite how much his dad liked to talk construction. Gerald happily wittered away, talking about his new contracts, old employees, and slipshod suppliers until Derek figured he must have blanked out this part of his childhood, repressing the sheer boredom of it.

But by the time they were halfway through their meal, even Gerald seemed to be getting bored of his own voice. He started poking at his food and grumbling about indigestion, so Talia tried to distract them by asking, "So. I haven't heard the story of how you two met."

She looked at them expectantly, her face changing from excited to slightly concerned when she saw the looks Derek and Stiles were giving each other.

Derek cleared his throat. "I did, Mom. I was on a business trip, remember?"

"Yes, I know that. But how long did you know each other before you got mated?"

Stiles smirked, tried to keep his eyes on his plate, and kept chewing as Derek coughed and made a series of non-committal noises before turning to Stiles and asking, "About ten, wasn't it?"

Stiles swallowed his mouthful and looked up at him smiling. "More like fifteen, I think."

Talia watched them enjoying the private joke. "Months?" The question was innocent enough. Derek thought about lying but they'd know so there seemed no point. He smiled gently and looked her in the eye. "Minutes."

Talia's eyes began to widen as the realization kicked in, hitting astonished just as Gerald broke out in raucous laughter, pounding his fist on his thigh and tipping back in his chair.

Talia ignored him, turning to Stiles and asking, "And your parents were okay with this?"

Stiles looked to Derek, uncertainty flitting across his face. Derek shrugged slightly and nodded, so Stiles cleared his throat and said softly, "They're not really in the picture. They threw me out when they found out I was… They're human, I’m adopted so they didn't know…" He smiled sadly at Talia who was watching him with only kindness in her eyes. "Derek was the first wolf I met. He kinda picked me." Stiles looked over at Derek and beamed at him. "And I'm really glad."

Gerald's laughter faded into chuckles. "Well, that's just typical."

Derek's heart leapt as Stiles fixed Gerald with a challenging stare and said, "Excuse me?"

Gerald ignored him, turning to Derek instead. "Makes sense that you'd end up putting your teeth into some Omega whore looking for an easy ride. You never did have the best judgment."

Derek's wolf surged forward, growling, ready to break free and fight if it had to. This was always the way things turned out. He was angry with himself for imagining that it could be different this time.

When he was a kid, he would end up pinned to the ground, something fractured or bleeding, crying as his father gloating about how he'd never be good enough as an Alpha. Things only got worse as he got older. Derek’s hormone-fueled temper would get the best of him, and his father would goad him all to easily into a fight. By the end, they couldn't be in the same room together without their wolves scrabbling for dominance. Derek was strong but Gerald was formidable. Derek had no doubt that even after all these years that his father could still beat him in a fight.

But given that he had just insulted his mate in the worst way possible, his wolf was ready to go, even if defeat was inevitable. That is until Stiles stood and smashed his hand down on the table, making the cutlery jump and attracting the attention of the two Alphas.

"How  _ dare _ you! How dare you come into my house and insult my mate like that!"

Gerald sneered and relaxed back in his chair, giving Stiles his attention for the first time. " _ Your _ house? You pay for all this then?"

Stiles growled, his face growing redder. "Is that what's important to you? I assembled the table you're sat at. I cleaned the room you're sitting in. I cooked the fucking food you're eating. But even if I didn't, my mate, my  _ Alpha _ , he did pay for it all, so maybe you should show him some fucking respect in his own house!"

Derek blanched as Gerald leaned forward and growled, "Didn't your parents teach you any manners, boy?"

Talia let out a squeak of surprise when Stiles bent forward to lean on the table and rasped out, "Did yours?"

There was a beat, a moment of absolute silence, before Gerald turned his head slowly to look at Derek, and asked in a horrifyingly calm voice, "You just gonna sit there, or are you going to do something about  _ that _ ?"

Derek looked to his mother, who was sat silent, in shock, her hand covering her mouth in surprise; then back to his father’s steely glare. Carefully, placing his napkin on the table next to his plate, he cleared his throat and pushed his chair back from the table. As he stood, Stiles straightened and turned to him, almost stumbling as the fight suddenly drained away. As Derek walked up to him, he started to shake and turned pale.

When they were toe-to-toe, Derek reached out and cupped the sides of Stiles’ face with his hands. Stiles’ mouth was moving, trying and failing to get out words of apology, as he kept trying to shake his head in his mate's grip. Derek's thumbs swept across Stiles’ cheeks, and he dipped his head, kissing Stiles lightly on the lips.

Derek smiled as he pulled away from Stiles’ confused face. "Thank you for making dinner."

Stiles huffed out a surprised breath and kept his eyes on Derek, until there was a sharp squeak of a chair being pushed back.

They turned to see Gerald standing up from the table. He wiped his mouth roughly with the linen napkin, then threw it on the table, almost upsetting his wine glass. He growled out, "I'll be in the car," then stormed out of the house, slamming the front door so hard Derek swore he heard something splintering.

Derek looked back at Stiles. The Omega was still trembling and looking worried so he gathered him into his arms and held him tight.

After a moment, they heard the scrape of a knife on ceramic.

Looking over they saw Talia tucking into her dinner like nothing happened. When she felt their eyes on her, she glanced up, pointed to her plate with her fork, and smiled. "Stiles, this sauce is delicious. You're going to have to give me the recipe. I can't wait to see what you made for dessert."


	10. Chapter 10

Derek opened the front door, feeling nothing but emptiness. He’d hoped for the same thing to be true of the house when they’d arrived home but he could already hear Isaac and Aaron talking and laughing lightly in the lounge. Pushing the door wide, he stepped back and let Stiles pass, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging down, the posture unchanged from the way they had left the doctors office. The silence on the journey home had been excruciating.

Stiles moved slowly up the hall, drifting like a ghost. Isaac must have heard them come in and was moving away from Aaron as they passed the doorway. The boys had their homework laid out on the coffee table but it looked no different from when Derek and Stiles had left two hours earlier. Even though Isaac hadn’t said anything, it was was clear that he and Aaron were dating, or at least they were getting around to it.

It looked like Isaac was going to jump up and make some joke at first but then he saw Stiles and his face flooded with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

Derek shook his head, pleading with his eyes for the boy to not push. “Why don’t you two make yourselves scarce for a bit.”

Isaac nodded and Aaron started to silently gather their books together but Stiles raised his head slightly and held up his hand. “No. No, stay and…I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.” He sounded as exhausted as Derek felt but Derek knew it was more than that. More than anything he wanted to be able to reach out and touch, to hold his mate and tell him everything was going to be okay but once Stiles had pushed him away the first time Derek had tried to comfort him, Derek was too hurt and too scared to try again. 

“I’ll make some food and bring it up in a while,” he said softly, wanting to offer something at least.

But Stiles didn’t bother looking back and just mumbled, “I’m not hungry,” as he walked away. And Derek felt a little guilty that he was relieved he wouldn’t have to look at Stiles’ red eyes and tear-stained face, knowing he couldn’t do anything to make it better.

 

It had been a disappointment when Stiles hadn’t fallen pregnant after his first heat with Derek. It was fairly normal for new mates to find themselves with new pups the first time around as all the hormones flying about really amped up their fertility. Stiles had simply put it down to having been on suppressants for such a long time and they didn’t worry too much. 

The fact that Stiles didn’t get pregnant in the period up to his next heat was a little unusual. Even though an Omegas fertility was much less virulent it would have still been possible, especially with the amount of sex they were having that ended in Derek’s knot.

But three weeks after Stiles’ second heat, when Derek had come home to find Stiles sat in the middle of the bathroom floor, pregnancy tests scatter around him like confetti, looking at all the negative results with such confusion on his face, it was clear they had to do something.

Melissa had made them the appointment. It was a doctor she trusted and said had an excellent reputation. Derek had checked her out thoroughly anyway, so he felt confident telling Stiles that everything would be okay and it was probably nothing to worry about and that even if it was that he was sure the doctor would be able to help them.

And he believed it. 

Right up until the moment Stiles had told the doctor the name of the suppressant that his parents’ physician had put him on at fourteen. The look on her face said it all.

She had used words like ‘unethical’ and ‘unconscionable’, even going so far as to take the guy’s name. She used a lot of jargon even though Derek could tell that she was trying her best to dumb down the information. She had an anatomical picture that she pointed to with her pen. But even so it was too hard to take all the information in as the color drained from Stiles’ face and he started to crumble as she talked. 

Technically, it was a suppressant that he’d been prescribed but it was one well known for causing infertility and even sterilization in Omegas if it was given to them when they were too young. Normally, it was reserved for Omegas who knew they didn’t want any more pups and even then, it was reluctantly given without an Alpha’s informed consent and written permission. 

Other than that she didn’t seem to be able to give them a straight answer, mostly as she’d never come across an Omega who had been taking the drug from such a young age or for such a long time. She couldn’t say that Stiles would never be able to carry a child but the chances were so slim… When she mentioned that adoption was always an option, Stiles had  started to cry and then couldn’t seem to stop.

Stiles had let Derek lead him from the office but when he had tried to put his arms around him in the hall, Stiles had shrugged away from him, as if he couldn’t bear Derek to touch him and just whispered, “Please take me home.”

And that had been the last thing Stiles had said until they had got back to the house.

 

Derek watched Stiles take the stairs, each step more effortful than the last and thought he might suffocate. It was as if he couldn’t take a breath, his chest was so tight, but he forced himself to turn back to Isaac and Aaron who were watching their exchange wide-eyed. “I’ll make some sandwiches—”

“You don’t have to,” Isaac interrupted, starting to stand. “We can—”

Derek held up his hand. “No, I—I need to do something. You just—” He sighed, wishing he could give Isaac some reassurance but not trusting himself to do it. “Just finish up your homework. That essay has to be done by Tuesday.”

Isaac nodded and sank back into the chair, his hand seeking Aaron’s as he whispered, “Yes, Alpha.”

If he meant it to comfort Derek, it didn’t. 

Somehow, he managed to find his way to the kitchen and started drawing ingredients from the refrigerator. Every movement was born of muscle memory rather than conscious thought to the extent that when he saw a neat stack of sandwiches in front of him, Derek had no recollection of making them at all. He shared the bulk of them out onto two plates for the boys, leave one for Stiles and one for himself. Then he transferred half of his onto Stiles’ plate realizing he had no appetite.

The boys seemed pleased enough to get the food although they were abnormally quiet and polite about it. Derek brushed a hand over Isaac’s shoulder, hoping to assuage some of his anxiety and was relieved to see his smile as he turned to leave the room.

A noise on the stairs had Derek diverting from his path away from the kitchen. Stiles was coming down, looking just as broken as when he’d gone up. Except now he had his old duffle bag in his hand and a jacket over his shoulders.

Derek’s insides turned to water, but he thought maybe he’d got it wrong. “I was just bringing you some food. Would you like some coffee? Or—or that tea you like? I can make it.”

Stiles’ lower lip quivered and he whispered, “Derek.”

Derek took a tentative step forward, his hand outstretched with no intention to touch. “Please. Just…why don’t we just sit and eat? Please.”

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t, I—”

The doorbell rang and Derek gasped as panic started to claw at his throat. “No. Nonono, you can’t—”

“Please.” Stiles’ eyes were brimming with tears and Derek knew whatever Stiles asked him in that moment, he’d be powerless to deny him. “Please, Alpha. Let me go.”

Derek’s wolf howled and urged him to block the way, desperate and stricken at the thought of the Omega leaving. But as much as he couldn’t do it, Derek found himself unable to move away either. 

Stiles seemed to see it and slowly walked down the last few steps, squeezing by Derek’s frozen body without looking up.

“What’s going on?” Isaac came out of the lounge, arms wrapping around his chest as if to comfort himself. “Are you  _ leaving? _ ” 

He looked between Derek and Stiles with wide eyes until finally Stiles cleared his throat and said quietly, “Just for a while.”

Isaac breathed out so quickly and so heavily it sounded almost like he’d been punched. “But you’re coming back, right?”

The length of time it took for Stiles to answer was almost worse than when he simply replied, “I’ll speak to you in a few days.”

Derek’s only consolation as he watched Stiles walk out of their home, was that Liam was waiting for him on the other side of the door, his beat-up old Jeep leaking oil onto their driveway. Perhaps if there had been a stranger, a nameless taxi driver, Derek might have felt more able to put his foot down, to compel his Omega to stay, force him if he had to. It was his right. Stiles belonged to him. But Stiles was going to be with family, with pack, and so Derek just stood there and watched him go.

When the door finally swung shut, the noise was like a bullet, practically sending Derek to his knees. Isaac stepped forward but Derek held up his hand, unable even to look up at him. “Get your things and go to Aaron’s tonight. Don’t be late for school in the morning.”

If Isaac wanted to argue, the urge didn’t last long. Derek thought he might have replied, “Yes, Alpha,” but Derek was already climbing the stairs, lifting one heavy limb after the other.

The door to their bedroom was closed. Derek knew it was irrational but regardless he felt the urge to open it and check to see if he’d imagined this whole thing, that what had just happened was some kind of nightmare and he would open the door to find Stiles folding laundry or sprawled on the bed reading or waiting seductively, wearing nothing but a smirk. Except the room was empty, the bedcovers slightly rumpled where Stiles must have placed his bag to fill it.

Derek didn’t go in, couldn’t contemplate ever going in that room again without Stiles being there. He closed the door, tears welling in his eyes— and a subtle rage roiling in his gut—walked a few paces down the hall and opened another door.

The room was still bright yellow, still covered in the painted cartoon animals that Stiles had laughed over, making up silly stories and getting paint all over himself and Derek the weekend they’d spent decorating. The toys and supplies they had optimistically bought—each one of them coming home now and again with something they just happened to see and couldn’t resist; a cute duck in a rain hat, a changing mat with cool pockets, the sweetest wolf mobile—were shoved in a plastic storage box. The crib was still only partly constructed but had been slowly shoved to one side of the room to make way for other things, junk which had accumulated with nowhere else to be. 

Their baby’s nursery, now a junk room. 

Tears of grief burned Derek’s eyes and the subtle rage boiled over. Before he knew what was happening, the room turned red and that was all he remembered until Noah was crouched in front of him, his hands were cupping Derek’s face.

“Derek! Derek, come on, son.” 

Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Noah sound so worried, still he tried to wrench himself away from his touch. His chest hurt as he sobbed and his vision was blurred. When he wiped at his eyes he realized that not only was his face wet but his hands were covered in blood.

The sight shocked him enough that he sat up from where he was slumped in the corner and took in the room. Or what was left of it. 

Everything was broken. Even the windows. The paintings on the walls were gone, obliterated by long gashes that had torn through the drywall. Anything hard was snapped or crushed, anything soft had been ripped to pieces. There were shards of crib and stuffing from the toys everywhere. Even the door was hanging off its hinges. It looked like a hurricane had been through the place. Or maybe a rampaging werewolf.

Noah let out a sigh of relief when Derek started to look around. “Thank god. You back with us?”

Derek nodded but then felt overcome again. His throat burned as he forced out, “He left me. My mate left me.”

Noah pulled him forward and held him close, letting Derek sob Stiles’ name into his collar, as he said gently, “I know, son. I know. It’ll be okay. You’ll see. It’ll be okay.”

 

Isaac had called Melissa as soon as Derek had disappeared up the stairs. She in turn had called Noah, who had rushed right over, probably breaking a traffic law or two to get to them. He’d found Aaron covering Isaac’s ears in a corner of the kitchen, both boys terrified but intent on staying—Isaac because he didn’t want to leave his Alpha and Aaron because he didn’t want to leave Isaac. Derek had calmed somewhat once he’d heard Noah’s voice calling to him from the hall and eventually collapsed, exhausted, allowing Noah to finally get close. 

By the time Noah had dragged him from what was left of the nursery and had him downstairs on the couch with a whiskey in his hand, the cops had arrived. Derek couldn’t blame the neighbors for calling them. Not when a werewolf was obviously losing his mind down the street and there were kids in the house. He could hear Noah talking quietly to them at the door when Isaac came in.

The kid shuffled forward, obviously still afraid until Derek held up his arm and Issac rushed to him. They were sat next to each other on the couch when Noah came in with the cops following behind him. The two men, the larger obviously an Alpha himself, had their weapons drawn, hanging loosely at their sides as not to be obvious or threatening, but one look at the arm around Isaac’s shoulders had them asking a few obligatory questions before they simply put their guns away and left.

A fresh glass was put into Derek’s hand, this time full of water, to accompany the mug of sweet tea that was put on the table in front of him, and Noah extracted Isaac from Derek’s side. Derek could hear low voices and movement, followed by the sound of hammering coming from upstairs. Then Isaac and Noah were helping Derek to his feet and walking him out of his house, down the drive to Noah’s SUV.

It wasn’t until they started to push him into the front seat that Derek’s fog lifted enough to realized what was happening. He turned in a panic to Isaac, but the boy just smiled reassuring at him. “I’m okay. I’m going to go stay with Aaron tonight.” He hugged Derek tightly for a second then stood back, adding, “I won’t be late for school, don’t worry.”

They drove in silence. Derek’s head lolled against the window, the world outside flashing by in a blur much like the thoughts in his head. He felt nauseated and empty, angry and heartbroken, like he wanted to scream but it was trapped inside somehow. But most of all he just wanted Stiles. His mate was hurt and upset and he was out there, god-knows where and Derek couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Noah didn’t even try to speak to him or ask what had happened. His mouth was set in a tight line, his lips pressed together, looking grim but purposeful. Derek realized he had no idea where Noah was taking him until they turned into his street. When they parked in Noah’s driveway, Noah immediately went around to the passenger door. Derek made no move to get out until Noah unbuckled his seatbelt and took him by the arm. It was like Derek had lost all ability to function, his mind filled with thoughts of his mate.

As they approached the house, Melissa opened the door. She looked like she had been crying, and the way she gasped when she saw the state that Derek was in, looked like she was set to start again. Derek wanted to say something, give her some kind of reassurance but there was nothing. Nothing but Stiles.

Melissa didn’t try to touch him when he came close but did block the way for a second, and said quietly, “Please try to be calm, baby.”

Derek nodded once, gutted at the thought she was that disappointed in him. But as she led him to the sitting room, he realized what she meant.

Stiles rose slowly from the chair, his whole body shaking. He looked even more broken than he had when he’d left the house, his eyes bloodshot and his face red and blotchy. He looked smaller somehow, frail. The sweatpants and sweater—both Derek’s—that he’d changed into, hung from him making the effect even more pronounced. 

Derek froze with the shock of it, unsure for a moment whether his mate wanted him there. But when Stiles took half a step forward, Derek cried out and ran to him, falling on his knees as he caught Stiles around the waist and they both collapsed on the rug. They held each other for what seemed like forever; Stiles only able to croak out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” while Derek pleaded, “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

 

Melissa placed a hot drink in front of Stiles then one in front of Derek at the other end of the dining table. Derek didn’t like that Stiles was sat so far from him—that he couldn’t touch him or scent him—but he knew that Melissa had been right to separate them. They needed to talk this out. 

Melissa sat herself between them, looking up briefly at Noah when he brought a drink for her. He touched her shoulder gently and smiled, then turned back to the kitchen. Derek was grateful for the way Noah brushed his hand lightly over Stiles’ shoulder too as he passed by. Stiles needed as much comfort as he could get.

Stiles wouldn’t look at him. After the initial shock of seeing each other, once Melissa had coaxed them from each other’s arms and, in no uncertain terms, had told them they needed to sit down and work this through, Stiles had retreated from Derek and showed no sign of relenting.

“So, I think we can agree that running away or smashing things up isn’t going to do either of you any good.” Melissa kept her head down as she talked, turning the mug in her hands on the table in front of her. “I’m so unbelievably sorry about what has happened. I—” She wiped at her eye with a finger before sighed and going on. “You need to talk. Or at least start.” She glanced over to Noah who was puttering around in the kitchen. “I know neither of you are probably feeling very hungry but dinner will be ready in about an hour. Talk here or in the yard. Then we can eat and figure out what you want to do tonight, okay?”

Derek nodded and saw Stiles do the same. Melissa stood up and reached for Derek’s hand. He thought that she merely thought to reassure him but she pulled him gently out of her chair and led him to the seat next to Stiles. 

Derek sat down reluctantly when Stiles sniffed and tried to angle his body away from his mate. Melissa wasn’t having that though, and as she passed Stiles, she placed a hand on each shoulder, bent down to kiss his head then turned him back, so the two wolves both faced the table.

Derek didn’t have the first clue of how to begin.  _ How are you feeling? _ was the last thing he wanted to ask. It was pretty evident from Stiles’ pallor and hitching breaths that he was far from alright.

Derek cleared his throat, his voice almost a whisper. “Did you come straight here?” Stiles looked surprised for some reason but recovered quickly and gave a tight nod. Derek sighed in relief and nodded back. “Good. That’s—good. To be with…family.” 

Derek winced at his choice of words but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. He just shrugged and said, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” It hurt to hear it but it was hard to deny. Stiles sniffed again and asked, “Did you really smash up the house?”

Slowly, Derek placed both elbows on the table, each side of his drink, and put his head in his hands. “Not the house. Just the—” He blew out hard. It was difficult enough to admit that he’d lost control like that but to have destroyed something Stiles had cherished… “I don’t even remember doing it. One minute, I was looking at the crib and thinking about that weekend we’d spent decorating, and the next…I’m so sorry, Stiles. You must be so ashamed of me.”

Stiles’ mug rattled on the table. Some tea slopped onto his fingers but he didn’t seem to notice. “Ashamed of—I don’t know how you can say that to me. I don’t know how you can even look at me, let alone be in the same room as me—” His hand came up to cover his mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Stiles didn’t have to elaborate. Derek could guess what he was thinking. It wasn’t an unusual way of thinking even though most felt it to be old fashioned, if not plain offensive. Omegas were breeders. That was it. Their only role in the pack. It helped if they prettied up the place but historically, there had always been the idea that they should tend the home, bear the pups, and know their place. To be an Omega unable to do the most important of those things was to have no real purpose at all.

It didn’t matter that no one really believed that anymore—the ones that did, people like Derek’s father, were so far out of touch with reality it was seen as almost comical—the implication was still there. No matter that Stiles was going to school with career plans and ambitions. No matter that Derek was so proud of his mate’s intelligence and fierceness and wit. Stiles thought that Derek wouldn’t want him anymore.

Derek took a deep breath, turning slightly to face Stiles. “Do you remember the night we first met?”

Stiles pulled his hand from his mouth slowly. After a moment, opened his eyes and nodded, keeping his gaze on the table.

“Do you remember what you asked me? About when two wolves meet?”

Stiles frowned, seemingly trying to dredge up the memory but coming up with nothing.

With every ounce of caution that he could muster, Derek reached out and took Stiles gently by the hand. “You asked me if it was always like that. Actually, I think you said something about my eyes and how I smelled and then we—” Derek cut himself off. Even after all that time, he still had mixed feelings about how he’d handled things that night, but Stiles didn’t pull away. In fact, his fingers tightened around Derek’s.

“I don’t think I ever answered you but—no. No, it’s almost never like that. Even at the bar, I knew how much I wanted you. That you were mine. That I needed you. That feeling had never happened to me before and I  _ know _ it’ll never happen again. I love you, Stiles. Not for what you can give me but for who you are. You’re my mate. And nothing will ever change the way I feel about you.”

Stiles looked up, tears spilling down his cheeks. “But I’m broken,” he rasped out, almost as a whisper. “How can you still want me?”

Derek reached up and cupped his cheek, smearing away the tears with his thumb. “How can I not? I love you. That’s the end of it. All this means is that we may have to change our plans for a while. Even the doctor didn’t know how you’re going to be affected. And if we can’t have pups of our own then we still have each other. Don’t we?”

Stiles mouth dropped open and for a moment nothing came happened. Then a breath shuddered out of him, and he half-cried, half-whispered, “I wanted so much to have a baby with you, Derek. So much. So fucking much…”

Derek pulled Stiles to his chest. Stiles buried his head in the crook of his neck and sobbed as Derek kissed his temple and said quietly, “I know, Omega. I know. But we can get through this. We get through it.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Things didn’t get better over night. Indeed, there were times when Derek thought that they might never recover. 

But they did. Slowly.

They stayed with Melissa and Noah that first night. Stiles reluctantly let Derek put an arm around him as they fell asleep in the guest bed and Derek woke up alone, but at least they were together. 

Derek was dreading returning to the house but Noah had called in a few favors and by the time the were back, the debris had been cleared from the nursery and the window had been fixed. Stiles refused to go in the room again, even after the dry wall had been replaced and everything was painted plain white. 

Isaac was the glue that held them together for a while. It almost seemed as if the more that they kept reassuring him that they were okay, the more they started to believe it themselves.

Stiles was quiet and withdrawn for a long time. Melissa had immediately set them up with a therapist, and although Derek was reluctant to talk to a stranger about anything to do with his relationship with Stiles, he had to admit that it helped. It didn’t stop the feeling in his gut, as if part of him was being ripped out every time he caught the sadness in Stiles’ scent or came home to see his eyes red from crying. But gradually Stiles started to smile again. 

The casual touches came back; the peck on the lips as Derek left for work or the hand skimming his shoulders as Stiles passed by. The first time Stiles laughed out loud, it took them both by surprise and although Derek had beamed at his mate, Stiles had looked horrified and then guilty. But after the first time it seemed to happen more and more.

The one thing that didn’t change was sex. They both wanted it, wanted the closeness that it gave them before. But they couldn’t face it. Talking about it in their therapy sessions was the worse kind of hell for Derek. He’d promised Stiles that he would be totally honest but it cost his pride and his wolf dearly. It was bad enough to see Stiles crying and humiliated, wrenching his heart out as he tried to explain all the bad thoughts and feelings he was having about himself and his body. But then Derek would have to confess that he was struggling to hold back when his wolf just wanted to claim Stiles, like it thought somehow knotting Stiles would make everything better. Derek was disgusted with himself for simply thinking it but having to speak the words aloud made him wonder how Stiles could even look at him let alone share a bed with him. 

Over all, Derek was trying to be pragmatic—they both were. Except, down deep, Derek still thought there might be a chance to have a family whereas Stiles had given up all hope. And so it went on. 

And it might have gone on that way for a some time if Derek hadn’t walked in the front door about three months later to find Stiles sat at the kitchen table, staring at the phone in his hands. 

“Everything okay?”

Stiles blinked twice then shook his head. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You think so?” Derek pulled out a chair and sat down, not taking his eyes from Stiles face.

Stiles frowned. “Yeah.” He looked up, slightly dazed. “My dad died. Heart attack.”

“Shit.” Derek reached out and covered Stiles’ hands with his own. “I’m sorry.” 

Stiles didn’t really reply, just hmmed like he was still trying to process everything. After a minute, he sighed before saying, “Liam’s on his way home to help mom with the funeral arrangements.”

“Do you…?” Derek wasn’t quite sure how Stiles was going to react, especially with all the other emotional upheaval he’d been going through. “Do you want to go too?”

Stiles looked perplexed. “I don’t—I don’t know. I mean, he was my dad but after everything…” He lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers hard across his brow. “Would it be weird? If we went to the funeral?”

Derek leaned across the table and kissed him briefly on the lips. “I think if you need to go, we should go.”

Which was how he found himself driving back to the small town outside Redding a week later and parking up outside the house that Stiles grew up in.

It was dead quiet when Derek turned the engine off. Stiles made no move to even look up from his lap, let alone get out of the car. 

Derek glanced over to the house and the small number of people dressed in black that were milling in and out the front door, carrying platters and chairs. He guessed that they were preparing for the wake before they set off for the service. 

“We should go in,” he said softly. 

Stiles’ head came up slowly and he looked towards the house. “Shit,” he muttered, “That’s Aunt Rose. She hated me even before they kicked me out.” He turned back to look at Derek, biting at his lip. “Would you be mad if I said I’ve changed my mind?”

Derek smiled gently and took his hand. “Get out of the car, Omega.”

Stiles took a deep breath and then blew it out hard as he opened the car door.

They walked together up the drive, Derek slightly behind keeping his hand on Stiles’ lower back. There could have been no doubt to who he was to Stiles and the looks they were getting confirmed the small town mentality that he’d been expecting.

Liam appeared in the doorway, looking tired but relieved to see his brother. There were mutterings when he fell into Stiles’ arms and the brothers hugged. And then audible gasps when Liam turned to Derek and they did just the same. 

Liam did an excellent job of tuning all of that out. “How was the drive?”

Stiles shrugged. “Okay, I guess. How’s mom doing?”

Liam shrugged back in a similar manner. “Okay, I guess. The car will be here any minute. You wanna come in or…”

The implication was clear, and their timing lousy as the long black limousine in question pulled into the street. 

Stiles shook his head. “Maybe we should just see her after.”

“You don’t want to ride with us?” Liam asked as he placed a hand on Stiles’ arm. “Family should ride together.”

Stiles sent him a half smile and pulled him close for a second. “I don’t think he would have wanted that.” He pushed his brother to arms length, and nodded at him reassuringly. “We’ll see you at the church, okay?”

Liam nodded, and then turned to a voice calling him from the house. “Later then,” he said before nodding to Derek and disappearing.

The service was short, thankfully. There was only so long Derek could bite his tongue at the frowns and tsks when Stiles came in, or the way that the reverend didn’t include Stiles in the list of family members mentioned, or the way he talked about Stiles’ father being a good man and a good Christian when he and Stiles were relegated to the back of the church like strangers.

But he kept his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, holding the order of service for him, and handed him tissues from the wad he’d shoved into his jacket pocket surreptitiously before they left.

Things weren’t any different when they got back to the house. Stiles didn’t seem to want to talk to anybody other than Liam and his girlfriend and no-one wanted to talk to them, so the two wolves stood in a corner by themselves, nursing glasses of tart lemonade and eating day old potato salad. Stiles seemed okay with it, regaling Derek with gossip about the people whispering about them across the room, and telling stories about the house and times when he was happy there.

Stiles let himself be dragged away by Liam at one point, reluctant to leave Derek’s side at first, until Derek gave him a shove. Derek straightened himself up and decided to wander. Mostly everyone was crammed into the lounge, spilling out into the garden, so the rest of the house was thankfully fairly quiet. 

He found himself on the stairs, running his eyes over the array of photographs framed on the wall. They were primarily of Liam, from a babe in arms to one that he knew Stiles had taken back in the summer in their own backyard after a cook out. His arm was slung around Gemma’s shoulders as she lounged against his side. They were laughing and Derek could practically still hear the happy sounds that had filled their garden that afternoon.  He was a little taken aback that in amongst the array, he found a few pictures of Stiles too as a fat baby with a bucket and spade, and a skinny teenager with shaved head. He huffed out a laugh when he spotted one of the Omega with his cheeks stuffed with curly fries, happy to know that he still did the same thing after a few beers if he wanted to annoy Derek for kicks.

A sound on the stairs yanked him from his reverie and he looked up to see Stiles’ mother standing there. 

She looked uncomfortable, red-eyed and exhausted, her small hand clutching the handkerchief that hadn’t left her  all day. Derek stepped back down into the hall to let her pass without a word but when she came down, she stopped short, remaining on the step that left her at eye level with the Alpha.

Derek cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs O’Brien.”

Her mouth worked some as she pressed her lips together forming a tight white line across her face. “Liam says you’re a teacher,” she said finally.

“Yes. High school.”

“And that you’re allowing Stiles to go to school?”

Derek huffed out a laugh and smiled. “I don’t  _ allow _ Stiles to do anything. He wanted to go and I support him in that. I think nursing will suit him.”

“But no children.”

Derek’s fists clenched at his side and he had to fight to keep his tone even. He knew damn well that she knew all this. She and Stiles rarely talked on the phone but they did talk and he knew Liam kept her updated. “No. Not yet. One day I think we’d love to have a family. But we can wait.” He took a breath. “I think Stiles would like to adopt. Given his history.”

Her hard expression wavered at that. “I’m sure you would make a wolf child a lovely home.”

“Or human.” Derek wasn’t really trying to make a point but from the way shame briefly touched her eyes, he got his meaning across when he added, “We’d love them regardless.”

She nodded and took one step down before pausing and looking back up at him. “I’m—I’m glad he has you. We never wanted any harm to come to him. But I’m glad he has someone that makes him happy.”

She started to leave and despite his better judgement, Derek said, “I don’t approve of how you’ve treated him. It’s beyond my understanding how you could—but as far as Stiles is concerned, you’re still his mother. Which means you’re always welcome in our home, if you ever want to come to visit. I think Stiles would like that and I know Liam would too.”

As much as he meant the offer to be genuine, it was a little gratifying to see the woman shocked into silence. She only nodded curtly before hurrying off to find someone she’d rather be talking to.

“Ouch. How much did that hurt to say?”

Derek looked up to see Stiles, flanked by Liam, at the top of the stairs. Derek huffed out a laugh that settled into a smirk as Stiles came down towards him but it was Liam that replied, “Not as much as it hurt her to hear it.” 

Derek shrugged. “Maybe. Did I do wrong?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, Alpha. You did good.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Liam walked them out, pausing at the front door to say, “See you at the diner for breakfast, I guess.”

Stiles smiled. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to subject you to Aunt Rose’s pancakes.” The two brothers both made the same disgusted face before Derek dragged his mate back to the car.

They had opted to stay overnight in a motel just off the freeway, as the place Derek and Jackson had stayed in on their previous visit had shutdown. It seemed nice enough, relatively quiet and clean which is as much as they needed.

Stiles was a little too quiet though as they took turns in the small shower and changed into something more comfortable while they waited for their pizza to be delivered. Derek didn’t want to push it though. So they watched reality TV on the fuzzy TV and ate a decent thin crust washed down with warm beer on a slightly lumpy mattress, and Derek kept his mouth shut. At least, until Stiles came back from brushing his teeth.

“You okay?” Derek asked gently as he pulled off his teeshirt. Stiles only answered with a nod so he added, “You regret coming?”

Stiles shook his head and pulled back the covers. “No. It actually went better than I thought it would.”

Derek frowned. “So do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” One of the things that they had promised themselves was to be more open and work on their communication. Even though Derek thought he sounded like a robot asking Stiles questions like that.

Stiles seemed to think about it as he slipped into bed, but waited until Derek had joined him with his head next to him on the pillow before he answered, “No.”

“No?”

Stiles smiled and it was a little uncertain. “No. But I—I want—”

Derek ran his finger along Stiles’ jawline. “You want?”

“You,” Stiles breathed out. “I want you. To make love to me. Not your knot,” he added hastily, “I don’t think I’m ready for—I just want you. Inside me.”

“I can do that,” Derek whispered, leaning over to kiss Stiles on the lips. “I can do that.”

They went slow, achingly so that night. So slow it hurt. 

Stiles cried when he finally came but it sounded like relief rather than sadness. Then he covered Derek in kisses and gentle words of encouragement until Derek came too. They held each other close for the rest of the night and then did the same again when they woke in the morning.

Afterwards, when they’d returned home, they found themselves able to be less afraid to be physical, like they had been before Stiles’ diagnosis. Their therapist was pleased, although they could tell she would have liked them to have gone further. Isaac was less so, but Derek bought him a pair of ear-defenders that made him laugh. And Derek really felt like they were healing.

 

About four months later, Derek came home from work, shaking the rain from his coat before hanging it up. 

It took him more than a minute to find his mate, wandering from room to room.

Stiles had made a nest of textbooks and papers on their bed when Derek finally interrupted him. Derek stood in the doorway for a minute, leaning on the door jamb with his arms folded across his chest and a soft smile on his face. Stiles’ hair was standing up like he’d been running his fingers through it and he was chewing on the end of the pencil that was dangling from his mouth. He was frowning at the page in front of him as he ran the highlighter over it and Derek was pretty sure he could have stood there for the rest of the night before Stiles noticed him. 

Derek cleared his throat dramatically before saying, “It’s nearly seven. Do you want to order out?”

The reply took so long to come that Derek was gearing up to repeat himself, when Stiles mumbled, “There’s still some chili left. We could have that?” without so much as a cursory glance up at his mate. 

Derek huffed out a laugh as stalked to the bed, drawing the book away from Stiles’ and ignoring his whine of protest and the accompanying grabby hands. “We ate that yesterday. I could rustle up some mac and cheese?”

Stiles grimaced. “I’d rather you didn’t. No offense to mac and cheese.”

“Are you implying I can’t cook?”

Stiles’ expression was the model of sympathy. “ _ Can’t _ and probably  _ shouldn’t _ . Like…not ever again.”

Derek sighed. “Is this about the chicken risotto?”

He shouldn’t have even bothered finishing the sentence as Stiles was already nodding. “Yes. Yes, it is.” He laughed when Derek put on his most downtrodden expression, and reached out again for the book Derek had stolen. “Let me just finish this module and I’ll make us something.”

Derek relented, and as he handed back the book asked casually, “Hey, I got an email from an old college buddy today. He’s going to be in town next week. Is it okay to ask him over to dinner?”

Stiles shrugged. “Sure. As long as you don’t spend all night talking about baseball.”

“Yeah, he was never really a jock so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Stiles held out his hand and Derek took it. “You know you don’t have to ask my permission, Alpha.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. “Maybe I want to. This is your house too, y’know.”

Stiles hmmed and waved him away. “Okay then, let me finish up. The sooner I do this the sooner we can eat.”

“I’ll try not to gnaw the furniture while I’m waiting.”

 

Opening the front door and seeing Jordan there brought back a welcome flood of nostalgia and an unwelcome realization of just how long it had been since they were both pretty much kids together. Jordan laughed almost immediately and drew Derek into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh man. When did you get so old?”

Derek laughed and clapped him on the back. “Speak for yourself, Methuselah. Come on in.”

Jordan looked good. Still handsome with a few more lines around his eyes but not in a way that did anything but flatter him. He was still looking fit, much like Derek with the same Alpha physique, dressed in light jeans and a shirt that fitted in all the right places. 

Derek might have felt more guilty about appreciating the way his friend looked if Stiles’ jaw hadn’t practically hit the floor when he’d come out of the kitchen. In fact, Derek had to smirk at the way Stiles seemed to have to compose himself a little before he walked up smiling, with his hand outstretched. “You must be Jordan.”

It was gratifying in every way that Jordan seemed a little taken with Stiles too, given the look on his face and the way he put his hand in Stiles’ without so much as a glance at Derek for permission. “And you must be Stiles. Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

Stiles smiled. “Good. He seems to omitted a few things about you though. Like you being an Alpha.” His head pointedly turned to Derek who stood to the side with his hands in his pockets.

Derek shrugged. “Where would be the fun in that? This way you get to find out all the good stuff yourself.”

 

It was a fun evening. Stiles cooked so there was plenty of good food which both Jordan and Derek appreciated and Stiles didn’t seem to hate the two Alphas both saying so repeatedly. Jordan was as much fun as he’d been in college, although now he was in law enforcement he had a few more interesting stories to tell.

Stiles seemed rapt by everything Jordan had to say and, although he stayed glued to Derek’s side all evening, he barely glanced at him, saving all his attention for Jordan.

When the night ended, Jordan hugged Stiles goodbye in a completely friendly manner before drawing Derek into an embrace that lasted a little too long as he whispered, “I’m jealous,” into Derek’s ear.

Derek chuckled and whispered back, “Of him or me?”

“Both.” Jordan laughed, as he waved goodbye.

As soon as the door closed, Stiles wheeled around, his expression half outrage, half-amusement, and he practically laughed out, “Oh my god! That was him, wasn’t it?”

Derek smirked and shrugged and walked back into the house. “I’ve no idea what you mean.” He did, but it seemed like it would be a lot more fun for Stiles to have to explain himself.

“Old friend, my ass. Old  _ fuckbuddy _ more like it. I know you said you experimented in college but…”

He seemed pretty amused but Derek didn’t want to risk anything but being insensitive. He stopped just before they entered the kitchen and touched Stiles gently on the arm. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Should I have told him not to come?”

Stiles looked incredulous and folded his arms across his chest. “I was going to say you have damn good taste and high five you actually. If anything, you should have told him to stay the night!” 

Stiles laughed and Derek did too but the sound died too quickly.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, frowning with embarrassment as he started to busy himself with the dishes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Derek watched him for a moment, before sinking into one of the chairs at the small table. “Didn’t you? I wouldn’t have minded if you did. Not that I would allow it for a second but…” He licked his lips and was pleased to see Stiles’ movements slowly grind to a halt. “I liked the way he looked at you. And the way you looked at him. I don’t want to share you but…”

He didn’t really know where he was going with it, not until Stiles turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms across his chest and his feet at the ankle. 

“I suppose,” Stiles said, regarding the floor, “I suppose, you know how each of us feel against you. Naked. The heat of our skin. What we taste like.” His eyes flicked up at Derek, peering through his dark lashes. And Derek’s cock twitched.

He nodded. “I suppose so,” he said casually but the rasp in his voice gave away how much he was affected by the thought.

Stiles nodded and unfolded his arms, running his hands out along the counter at his sides. “So. What’s he packing? Do you think like I would like it as much as his ass?” His eyes were as defiant as his question.

Derek huffed out a laugh at the challenge, and spread his legs a little wider. “It’s nice, as I remember. Maybe not as thick as me but heavy. A little longer.”

Stiles looked appreciative, like maybe they were discussing groceries or what film they were going to watch that night, but it was clear he was enjoying the game as much as Derek. “And what would you have him do with that? Would you let him fuck my ass? Or only allow him to use my mouth?”

Derek felt like the air had punched out of him and he had to quickly tear open the button fly on his jeans before the fabric cut his dick off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so hard so fast. “Your mouth,” he said, although he sounded wrecked already. “That way I could watch you both while I fucked you from behind. You both look so beautiful when you come apart.”

A sound came from Stiles’ throat, a mewl that had Derek wanting, and without thinking he pushed his jeans and underwear down, pulled his cock out and started stroking. 

Stiles took a step forward and Derek could see that not only was he hard, but he was shaking as he unzipped his pants. “Would you want me to suck him or have him fuck my throat? Would you want him to come in me, Derek, so you could see me swallow?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

It took precisely zero seconds for Derek to reach out and grab Stiles roughly, drag his pants down to his ankles, bend him over the kitchen table and thrust up inside him.

Stiles all but screamed as Derek held him down and fucked him hard. It was everything they hadn’t been doing for such a long time. There was nothing slow or sensual about it. It was frantic and desperate, the room filling up with cries of enjoyment. Until Derek’s knot started to swell. 

Derek fought to hold back, surprised to see and feel it after all that time. It went against all his instincts to slow down and pull out but he had almost managed it when Stiles reached around and grabbed at him desperately.

“Do it.”

Derek shook his head even though Stiles couldn’t see him. “No. No, my—my knot—”

“I want it,” Stiles choked out. “For fuck’s sake, Derek, knot me, please. Please, Alpha, let me feel it.”

He did, punching forward so hard, Stiles’ feet lifted off the ground and he came, spattering onto the table top beneath him with a shout.

Even then Stiles ground his hips back against Derek, pushing his knot in further as it swole and Derek came. Without thinking, Derek pitched forward, yanked Stiles’ collar away from his neck, ripping it, and sank his teeth into Stiles shoulder. As he bit down, Stiles cried out and came again before becoming weightless in Derek’s arms.

 

“You owe me a new shirt.”

Derek huffed a laugh into the back of Stiles’ head. They were spooned together, laying down on the kitchen floor with the cutlery that Derek had knocked off the table when he threw Stiles onto it. “We’re going to owe Isaac a whole lot more if he comes home early.” Derek was glad Isaac was out for the weekend. At least they’d have a chance to air the place out before he got home.

Stiles was quiet for a while, holding Derek’s hands tight at his chest. He murmured something Derek didn’t quite catch and when Derek told him so, he seemed to take a breath before saying more surely, “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Derek kissed him again and held him tighter. “I’ve been right here.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t been here—” he clenched around Derek’s knot making him gasp “—for too long.”

“I’ve missed it too but there was no schedule, Stiles. I always said you should take you time.”

Stiles hmmed, thoughtfully. “I know, I just—it just felt for a while that maybe you didn’t want me like this anymore.”

“What? Lying on the cold kitchen floor with lasagna in my hair? That’s very specific, babe.” 

Stiles laughed and it made Derek happy in all kinds of ways. “So, you’re keeping me then?” It was said in jest but Stiles couldn’t hide the insecurity underneath it.

Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and breathed deep, smelling Stiles and mate and home, just as he had that first night. “Mate. Mine,” he said.

“Mate mine,” Stiles repeated quietly to himself. “Okay, then. Okay.”

  
  
  


Epilogue

 

Isaac and Aaron date until college. They break up over something stupid and date other people for a few years but then meet up again coincidentally in a bar one night when they’re both currently single. A ‘one-night stand for old times sake’ ends up with happy marriage and two kids.

Noah and Melissa live happily ever after and continue to be the best substitute parents ever.

Liam and Gemma stay together. It’s not easy for them, especially for Gemma when Liam’s mom comes to live with them before she dies but they make do and end up pretty contented together. Just them and three dogs.

 

Stiles and Derek never get to have a threesome with Jordan but it remains one of their most enduring fantasies. They add more over time and get stronger and stronger for it.

After a couple of years, they start looking into adoption and end up bringing home a little girl who’s about three. They fall in love with her as soon as they meet her. Derek quits his job to be a stay-at-home-dad with her and coaches Little League, of which she turns out to be a natural.

About a month after the final lot of adoption paperwork goes through, Stiles finds out he’s pregnant. No one is more shocked than the fertility doctor they’d been seeing. After some complications, Stiles has a healthy baby boy five months later. They don’t name him Jackson.

 

Jackson is a jerk forever. Even after he marries the lawyer who worked on Stiles and Derek’s adoption. He names their first kid after Derek’s dad, just for spite.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos if you read.  
> Leave a comment if you liked it.
> 
> This is unbeta'd so if you spot any errors, let me know in the comments and I'll tweak it ♥
> 
> Keep the fandom works in fandom, please.
> 
> Mwah x


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